A Little Knowledge
by Aeryn Alexander
Summary: In 1956 five young Ravenclaws deal with an unexpected danger, learning that darkness comes in many forms. But when those who must combat this darkness aren’t Gryffindors, where will they find the courage to fight? And how can one of these Ravenclaws, th
1. The beginning

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and all who normally reside therein belong to the woman whose name is on the side of the books: J.K. Rowling. And certainly not to me. Some of these characters, however, are mine, though perhaps I give myself too much credit.  
Title: A Little Knowledge  
Author: Aeryn Alexander  
Summary: In 1956 five young Ravenclaws deal with an unexpected danger, learning that evil and darkness come in many forms, some more perilous than others. But when those who must combat this darkness aren't from the house of lions, where will they find the courage and strength to fight? And how can one of these Ravenclaws, the son of a great wizard, find his own identity and his own destiny?  
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mild/moderate language, scary situations)  
Genre: General/mystery/drama/adventure  
Author's notes: Why did I write this? I wanted a challenge; I wanted to write about a non-canon era and attempt to write believable original characters. Obviously this is a story with more than a few OC's in it. I have given it my all to try and ensure that none of the characters are Mary Sues. But only other people can determine if I have succeeded. I want to thank my beta reader Quidditchgrl for beta-ing this chapter for me.  
  


* * *

  
A Little Knowledge  
  
  
The past tempts us, the present confuses us, and the future frightens us.   
  
- Emperor Turhan, _Babylon 5_  
  
I can resist everything except temptation.  
  
- from _Lady Windermere's Fan_, by Oscar Wilde  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
The beginning  
  
  
  
Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the Great Hall of Hogwarts, which was just beginning to fill with returning students. Many of them, as they continued conversations that had begun on the train from London, glanced upward briefly as they found seats at their houses' tables. A few grinned as the rain began, knowing that the first year students would only be about halfway across the lake. They were sure to be drenched, but the older students had made it inside just in the nick of time.  
  
At the Ravenclaw table four young witches, all second years, were just selecting seats near the front, eagerly awaiting the sorting ceremony and the feast that was to follow.  
  
"It's sure to be quite a night," remarked one of the girls, toying idly with her wind-mussed brown hair.  
  
One of her companions arched a thin, blond eyebrow and asked, "For us or for them?" She was, of course, referring to the younger students out in the weather and so forth.  
  
"Can't say ..." the first young witch mused, watching another bolt of lightning flash above them.  
  
The two others in the little group exchanged glances across the table.  
  
"Corinna, I swear, when we take Divinations next year, you'll have top marks," chuckled one of them, a witch with dark braided hair and expressive brown eyes. She looked a bit amused by her friends' banter.  
  
"You don't say, Sophia," said Corinna with a cryptic smile.  
  
"Ah, but it's _this_ year that matters," interjected the fourth member of the quartet, Olivia Scarrow, with a slightly wolfish grin. "We have a chance at the House Cup. I know it," she added fiercely.   
  
The year before Ravenclaw had lost by a measly twenty-five points to Gryffindor house, thanks at least in part to the opposition's fine Quidditch team.  
  
"That Molly Earnshaw ..." murmured the blond witch, shooting a half-venomous, half-envious glare at a red-headed fifth year who was a Beater for the Gryffindor house team, and a very good one at that.  
  
At that Corinna's face turned from idly musing to slightly sheepish.  
  
"I suppose I have something I had better tell you ..." hedged Corinna.  
  
"What?" asked Olivia curiously.  
  
Corinna reached into her robes and removed a rather worn letter that had been folded and refolded so many times that it was beginning to look rather tattered.  
  
"Professor Flitwick offered me a position on the team ... Reserve, you understand, but nevertheless," she shrugged, giving the note to Olivia, who was the most Quidditch-obsessed of the bunch.  
  
"Congratulations!" smiled Sophia, peering over Olivia's shoulder as she unfolded and read the letter.  
  
"What position?" asked Sissy, tearing her eyes away from Earnshaw and her many friends, though she barely had what one could call 'a real interest' in the game.  
  
"Keeper," said Corinna with a slight blush.   
  
She had been rather surprised to receive the letter, but had accepted immediately. The opportunity was a significant one, especially considering that Olivia, one of her best friends, would probably join the team the next year.  
  
"Brilliant, Corinna," nodded Olivia, returning the letter, which the other girl immediately tucked away again.  
  
"Thanks, but I probably won't have the chance to play, with David Clearwater never missing a match and all ..." she said, lowering her voice and hesitating a glance toward the team's Keeper and captain at the other end of the table with the rest of the team.  
  
"Maybe not, but he does graduate in the spring and you'll be a sure thing for the position," said Olivia seriously.  
  
The team, Olivia realized, would be losing a lot of players next year, and not every position had a reserve player waiting in the wings. There was, after all, only one reserve Beater, which was the position she most wanted to play.  
  
"Enough talk about Quidditch," said Sissy tiredly. "Sophia and I are beginning to feel quite left out."  
  
"Nonsense," Sophia laughed good-naturedly.  
  
But whatever else she was going to say was interrupted by the opening of the doors of the Great Hall. The first years had arrived. Or more accurately, Professor Dumbledore had arrived and was checking to make sure that everyone had found their seats and were waiting for the newcomers to Hogwarts. Olivia and Corinna glanced at the high table. Yes, all of their professors, except Dumbledore, of course, were in their places, as were the students at the lower tables, who were quieting down and looking curiously toward the entrance to the hall.  
  
"How many for us do you think?" asked Sissy in a quiet voice, glancing at her companions.  
  
"Four and four again?" suggested Sophia.  
  
"An even ten," shrugged Olivia.  
  
"Three and six," stated Corinna, who was looking at the ceiling again. The rain was pouring down, creating a dull and muted roar in the Great Hall.  
  
Before anyone could question the prediction, Dumbledore reappeared with his charges and a hush fell over the hall. Students craned their necks to get a good look at the damp and shivering first years.  
  
At the front of the room a hat, the Sorting Hat, was waiting for them on a stool. When all of the new students had been ushered inside, it began singing its song, which was a cue to many students that they could talk very quietly amongst themselves again.  
  
"See the boy with auburn hair," whispered Olivia.  
  
Sissy and Corinna glanced quickly over their shoulders and nodded in silent affirmation as they spotted the boy to which she was referring. He was rather skinny, but of average height with damp, curly hair and a rather nervous expression on his face as he glanced around the hall.  
  
"Gryffindor," said Olivia, looking meaningfully toward Arthur Weasley, a fifth year in that house.  
  
"No," answered Corinna.  
  
Sissy chuckled to herself and looked at Sophia, who was scouring the ranks.  
  
"So who do you like?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
"It's not like we're scouting for a Quidditch team!" Sophia objected.  
  
Sissy looked down their table and smirked ever-so-slightly and replied, "But everyone else appears to be ... scouting."  
  
"Taking bets might be fun, if there were more time," said Olivia in a half-wistful voice as the song ended and the students were forced to be completely quiet as the names of the new students were called.  
  
"Abbott, Stephen," called the deputy headmaster.  
  
"Hufflepuff!" exclaimed the Hat after a moment on top of the rather thin and worried-looking young wizard's head.  
  
"Bole, Katherine."  
  
"Slytherin!" shouted the Hat some minutes later.  
  
The young witch was, in the opinion of Olivia, a classic Slytherin. Heavy eye-lids and a confident, if not arrogant, expression as she glided to join her fellow serpents. Not that Olivia had anything against Slytherins. They were simply fierce competitors and not always honorable in their ... methods of competition. Some of them were even downright nasty, not to mention bullies and cheats.  
  
A few other students had been called in the meantime, while she had been musing over the house of green and silver, including one Ravenclaw - Brewster, Evelyn - but Sissy's ears pricked at the next name called, as did every ear in the hall.  
  
"Dumbledore, Martin," called the professor, looking up from his list for a moment with a smile as the previously noted auburn-hared young wizard came forward and sat down.  
  
"His son?" mouthed Sissy curiously as the Hat took its sweet time.  
  
The other girls, including Corinna, only shrugged and watched attentively.  
  
"Ravenclaw!" the Hat announced several tense moments later.  
  
Everyone at that table let out a whoop of excitement as Professor Dumbledore, looking quite baffled, removed the Sorting Hat and Martin walked to join his house mates. His face, normally rather ruddy, had lost all of its color. He tried to smile as Olivia and Sophia made room for him, but it was a strained, weary, and anxious smile.  
  
"Welcome to Ravenclaw," Olivia told him, giving Martin a friendly pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Th... Thanks," he said, slumping into his seat.  
  
"Cheer up! We aren't that bad," said Sophia.  
  
He looked grateful, but said nothing. Across the table Sissy raised an eyebrow and turned her attention back to the proceedings. The Hat had quickly sorted three Gryffindors, a Slytherin, and two Hufflepuffs, but none with quite the fanfare that young Dumbledore had received. The transfiguration professor's acts of daring during the war against the Dark Wizard Grindelwald were still discussed by much of the study body even eleven years after the fact. If this boy were his son ...  
  
"Your father?" asked Corinna curiously, posing the unspoken question on all of their minds.  
  
"Yes," he nodded.  
  
And with that admission Olivia thought she understood: Martin Dumbledore came from a family with a fine Gryffindor tradition that had endured for centuries. And he had been placed somewhere lower down the list, so to speak, in Ravenclaw. His father would be upset or at least disappointed. Maybe even embarrassed. Wouldn't he?  
  
"Halliday, Andrew," called Dumbledore.  
  
"Ravenclaw!" shouted the Hat, putting lanky, but somewhat slouching young man in their house.  
  
"Harrison, Edwina."  
  
"Ravenclaw!" the Hat said with only a moment's pause.  
  
The petite blond left the stool with a smile that led Sissy to believe that she was adhering to a familial legacy. She glanced at Martin, who seemed to be lost in thought, and sighed. Legacies indeed.  
  
Several more Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs were called while the house of eagles waited with bated breath.  
  
"Middleton, Leslie."  
  
A stocky boy with a grim, but confident expression approached the Hat, which only required a moment to decide: "Ravenclaw!"  
  
"Must be very intelligent," Corinna mused aloud.  
  
The others only shrugged as he passed by and went to sit with someone he apparently knew from the train.  
  
"Is that all it takes?" asked Martin quietly, raising his eyes from where they had been resting on the table.  
  
"So they say," said Sissy with a slightly curled lip.  
  
"Oh," was his only reply.  
  
"Prentice, Samuel," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Ravenclaw!" exclaimed the Hat after a moment of deliberation.  
  
The young wizard, whose face was freckled and full of surprise, made his way to the Ravenclaw table with stumbling steps.  
  
A few long minutes of waiting were required before the final newcomers joined them: Aria Turpin, Nathan Wainwright, and Julian Woodward. Corinna's prediction had come true: six young wizards and three young witches. Most of the other houses had received a more balanced group of students. Olivia found it rather unsettling, but kept her thoughts to herself.  
  
After Headmaster Dippet, who looked older and more fatigued with every year, had welcomed the new students and made all of the necessary official proclamations - "The Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students ..." and so on - the feast appeared and conversations resumed.  
  
"That was ... not disappointing," said Sissy, sipping her pumpkin juice and looking the new students over a bit critically.  
  
"Not at all," Olivia agreed, deciding that several of the firsties looked like they would be fine additions to the house team someday.  
  
Martin looked up from his plate after poking at his food for a moment and said, "But you ... we only got eight students. Slytherin got ten."  
  
"Quality over quantity," said Olivia, elbowing him in a friendly fashion.  
  
"We got eight last year. Professor Flitwick, our head of house, says that we are more selective than the other houses, except maybe Slytherin, but then superior intellect is harder to find than good blood," Sophia explained.  
  
"Not that blood doesn't matter," corrected Sissy.  
  
Corinna shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say anything. She merely glanced toward the high table and watched the professors for a moment. No new faces, though she had heard rumor that the staff would be changing ... soon. Armando Dippet was growing old at an alarming rate. He was, according to _Hogwarts: A History_, almost one hundred and seventy-five. Both his life and career were coming to an end, but her fellow Ravenclaw's eyes still held the spark of great intelligence in them. He would not give up without a fight, and Corinna rather admired that, especially considering the fact that his apparent successor was a Gryffindor. That did bode well at all.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, seated to the headmaster's right, leaned toward the headmaster and spoke with him quietly. His expression was troubled; the headmaster's was amused. Corinna imagined that they were discussing Martin and smiled at the thought. To Dippet's left was Professor Flitwick, who was grinning as he stood on his chair to take part in the discussion. He seemed quiet pleased.  
  
Her eyes strayed down the table passing quickly over young and boisterous Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house and a rather genial woman, and past Professor Kettleburn, who seemed to have lost an additional finger over the summer, to the head of Slytherin. Professor Krohn was sitting near the end of the table and flipping through a small black book. From time to time his eyes darted toward his house table, at which point he would nodded slightly and return his attention to his book.  
  
Corinna frowned and tried to make sense of what he was doing. Then she realized that it was probably something to do with lineage and 'blood', which were very important to all of Slytherin house, their head being no exception.  
  
"But not to me," she reminded herself, thinking of her muggle mother and her wizard father. Such things _could_ never be important to her.  
  
"Corinna? Are you still with us?" questioned Sissy sharply.  
  
"What?" asked Corinna in confusion.  
  
"Sophia just asked if you knew whether or not we would still be having Astronomy lessons this year," said Olivia with a roll of her eyes.  
  
"I don't think so," Corinna replied. "We would have had books or something on the list."  
  
"But all first years have it," Sissy informed Martin, who had obviously posed a question that Corinna had not heard.  
  
Andrew Halliday, who had been unobtrusively listening to the conversation, asked cautiously, "But doesn't that mean we will have classes at night?"  
  
"Only once per week," Olivia told him, inviting him into the discussion. "But schedules won't be given out until tomorrow." she added with a smile.  
  
"You say it like it's a treat," said Martin, who was still mostly moving his food around his plate and hardly eating at all. Corinna, who was just a bit on the pudgy side for her age, thought it was a shame to waste it.  
  
"Maybe it is," shrugged Sophia before Olivia could begin an argument. Or so she had hoped.  
  
"The classroom is a very important place," Olivia began to lecture. "It's our place to prove ourselves against everyone else. The Gryffindors have the Quidditch pitch ... for now. The Slytherins have their late night duels and family trees. The Hufflepuffs ... well, no one's really sure exactly ... maybe their relationships. We have the classrooms as the places and situations where we are our strongest."  
  
Martin looked at her for a moment, as did several other nearby first years, and nodded thoughtfully. By Sissy's estimation, he might have been too afraid to speak.  
  
  
Sometime well after dessert had been eaten, the fifth year prefects announced that it was time to retire to the dormitories. The students rose and followed their lead, exiting the Great Hall in an orderly manner, in the case of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and in complete disorder in the other cases, which was to be expected. The girls felt rather surprised as Martin stayed close to them as they made their way through the corridors.  
  
"You should knowing your way around, being the deputy headmaster's son and all," Sophia hesitated diplomatically.  
  
"I haven't been here since I was eight, and then I was sick and had to stay with my father," answered Martin with a mechanical shrug.  
  
"We're going to Ravenclaw Tower. It's between the Owlery and the Astronomy Tower. Far enough from the Gryffindors ..." began Olivia, but trailing off.  
  
"So as we can't hear or smell them," finished Sissy. "He's one of us now," she reminded the other three.  
  
"Yeah ..." said Martin softly.  
  
"You had better keep an eye out or you won't be able to find your way around," suggested Corinna, filling the sudden awkward silence.  
  
Martin merely nodded and lifted his head slightly so he wasn't looking at the floor.  
  
Ravenclaw Tower, or the Aerie as it was sometimes called, was reached a few minutes later. It was taller than Gryffindor Tower by only meters, but the winding climb to the common room and dormitories seemed to take a long time as the staircase was rather narrow and had to be climbed nearly single file.   
  
At the top was a portrait of a heavy-set, yet debonair gentleman in a lamp-lit study filled with shelves of books. He was wearing a monocle and leaning against a roll-top writing desk while reading a leather-bound volume as the prefects approached.  
  
"Good evening, sir, and how are you?" asked Ignatius Ambrose, the fifth year prefect.  
  
The portrait figure closed his book and studied the trim Chaser for a moment before heaving a sigh.  
  
"Bored, Master Ambrose. Terribly bored. It's so nice to see the halls being filled again. And how are you?"  
  
"Quite well, thanks."  
  
"Password?"  
  
"Alexandria."  
  
"The Great Library again?"  
  
"'Fraid so," Ignatius shrugged with a half smile.  
  
"Tsk, tsk," said the gentleman as the portrait hole opened and admitted the students.  
  
Many of the returning students greeted the painting on their way into the common room, and he answered them with polite replies and amused quips, obviously feeling much better seeing all of them.  
  
"He's nice," said Martin after passing into the shadowy common room.  
  
"Oh, yes, quite," chuckled Sissy.  
  
"Why is it so dark in here?" Martin asked as students continued to pour inside.  
  
"One of Flitwick's tricks," said Olivia rather fondly.  
  
"When he doesn't want us up late reading and so forth, the lights are kept low in here as a warning. It's his way of keeping us from burning out or studying when we should be sleeping and so forth," explained Sophia, who had a better-than-average understanding of the rules set down by their head of house.  
  
"So we just read by the light of our wands in the dormitories," Sissy added with a look of mild disdain.  
  
"Or we light the lamps," said Corinna.  
  
And with that they all proceeded to their dormitories to get a good night's sleep before their first day of classes. Or so the prefects thought ...  
  


* * *

  
  



	2. Ravenclaw after dark

Chapter Two  
  
Ravenclaw after dark  
  
  
  
At about a quarter after midnight the door of the girls' second year dormitory squeaked open. Then four young witches, the only occupants of the room, crept down the stairs with Olivia in the lead. Corinna quietly closed the door behind them and smiled secretively as she followed her friends into the shadowy common room where Sophia and Olivia collapsed onto a very comfortable couch in front of the dark fireplace while Sissy curled up quite primly in an arm chair. Corinna made herself at home on a divan to the right of the couch and facing Sissy.  
  
"Why couldn't we just talk in our room?" asked Sophia with a little yawn.  
  
"It's more fun sneaking down here," answered Sissy.  
  
"Why is that, I wonder?" mused Corinna, picking at the hem of her dressing gown.  
  
"Because it's a prelude to sneaking elsewhere. The kitchens ... The library ... The lake ..." answered Sissy, taking off her slippers and flexing her toes.  
  
"We only went out to the lake once," Sophia reminded her. "And we were caught."  
  
"But he didn't tell anyone," Sissy shrugged.  
  
"Hagrid is very sweet," said Corinna.  
  
Sophia and Olivia giggled, but Sissy only rolled her eyes at that statement.  
  
"It was very nice of him not to report us or take house points," said Sophia judiciously.  
  
"Quite," said Sissy.  
  
Just then they heard the distinctive creaking noise of a door being opened. Sophia's eyes widened in terror and surprise. To be caught out of their room on the first night! It would be disastrous. She ducked down quickly, tugging Olivia, who had begun to crane her neck to see who it was, with her. Corinna froze on the divan, unable to hide from view, while Sissy didn't move a muscle, hoping to go unnoticed by whoever was entering the common room.  
  
The tread upon the stairs leading to one of the dormitories was not especially soft. At first Sissy had feared that it was a prefect. Then she saw him. It was Martin Dumbledore, trudging down the stairs in his pajamas and what appeared to be a fuzzy gray robe.  
  
"You?" said Sissy in a surprised, and mildly annoyed tone.  
  
He started and nearly fell down the last two stairs leading to the common room. He froze at the bottom as his eyes darted from Sissy to Corinna and then to Sophia and Olivia, who were peering over the back of the couch.  
  
"I ... I'm ... s... sorry," he managed.  
  
"Quiet!" hissed Sissy. "We don't want to get caught!"  
  
"Sorry," he said even more quietly, hanging his head.  
  
Sophia shot Sissy a glare and left the couch.  
  
"Why don't you join us?" she asked, making room for him and gesturing for him to have a seat.  
  
He colored slightly, but did as she asked, whispering, "Thank you."  
  
"Can't sleep?" asked Sophia.  
  
"No," he admitted, looking at her with confused and anxious brown eyes.  
  
"The excitement?" she questioned.  
  
"Er, not especially."  
  
"You hardly had a bite of supper. Is that it?" asked Corinna with an encouraging smile.  
  
"A little," Martin acknowledged.  
  
"You expected to be a Gryffindor," said Sissy in a matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"No ..." he said softly. "I asked the Sorting Hat not to."  
  
"Not to what?" asked Olivia.  
  
"Not to put me in mum and father's house," he replied with tears shining in his eyes. He quickly blinked them away.  
  
Olivia gave a low whistle and just shook her head. She had never heard of anyone making a request like that before. There was quite a bit of prestige to be had in Gryffindor, if one went in for such things.  
  
"Why?" asked Corinna, studying the young wizard thoughtfully as he drew his knees up to his chest.  
  
"My father's stories ... they always frightened me. Especially fighting all those Dark Wizards ... I never want to have to do anything like that," he confessed.  
  
"No one does," said Corinna.  
  
Sophia squeezed his shoulder warmly and nodded her agreement.  
  
Martin looked up and glanced at the three young witches around. He smiled and appeared to relax slightly. They seemed to understand. He had not be sure if anyone would. Maybe he was in the right place after all.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I don't think we've been properly introduced," he said.  
  
"Corinna Bellew."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," he replied, remembering his manners.  
  
"Sophia Colville and Olivia Scarrow," she said, introducing herself and her best friend. "And that's ..." began Sophia.  
  
"Sissy Howard. Charmed, I'm sure."  
  
Olivia wanted to find a way to warn Martin that the world, at least as he knew it, would end if he ever dared call Sissy 'Elisabeth'. She hated that name.  
  
"Of course," he nodded. "Martin Dumbledore, at your service," he said to them.  
  
And they smiled, even Sissy, knowing that the worst of it was over. The initial shock of the sorting ceremony had finally passed. He was going to be all right.  
  
"Your father ..." Sophia said hesitantly.  
  
"Will probably want to see me tomorrow," said Martin, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"Your mum was a Gryffindor too?" asked Olivia.  
  
"Yes, and she's a ... she's an Auror now," he said with a lop-sided smile. "But she won't be too disappointed," he added.  
  
"Splendid," said Olivia with a nod.  
  
"It was a surprise, wasn't it?" asked Corinna, looking at him even more curiously.  
  
"I ... I only asked for 'anything but Gryffindor'. I thought ... Hufflepuff," he shrugged, blushing ever-so-slightly. It was difficult to detect with his somewhat ruddy complexion.  
  
Sissy snorted and said, "But your family is quite powerful. Slytherin would have been my second choice."  
  
Martin gulped at the thought and answered, "But I'm not cut out to be a Dark Wizard."  
  
"Neither are most of them," said Sissy disdainfully. There was a beginning spark of ire in her eyes.  
  
Before Martin could say anything else, his stomach growled.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
"Kitchen raid?" asked Olivia.  
  
"We are certain to be caught," argued Sophia.  
  
"Not tonight," said Sissy with a smirk as she uncurled from her chair and hunched forward. "No one would expect it on the first night of the term."  
  
"You mean you're going to sneak down to the kitchens?" asked Martin uncertainly, glancing from Sissy to Sophia incredulously.  
  
"That is what one usually implies with the term 'kitchen raid'," said Sissy before standing and stretching. There was a gleam in her eyes.  
  
Sophia shrugged and rose to her feet as well. She might have been reluctant to violate the rules, but if the other girls were up for the challenge, then so was she. Olivia stood with her friend, grinning from ear to ear. Only Corinna remained where she was.  
  
"Tonight ... is not a good night for this ..." she said, drawing her knees up and not budging from the divan.  
  
"Oh, don't be a spoil sport!" objected Sissy.  
  
"I will go with you, but, remember, I did warn you," said Corinna mysteriously. She sighed softly and slid from her comfortable seat.  
  
"Let's go then," said Olivia with a mischievous smile.  
  
  
The portrait, known simply as Gentleman in his Study, had dozed off at the writing desk by the time the five Ravenclaws quietly left their Aerie. They were careful not to awaken him. He might readmit them to the tower with few questions, and a conspiratorial smile, on their way back through, but if he caught them on their way out, he was rather obliged to remind them that they were engaging in flagrant rule-breaking. And the girls could hardly hold that against him as it was part of his job.  
  
"How will we get back inside?" asked Martin in a whisper as they rounded the first turn in the stairs.  
  
"Forget the password already?" asked Sissy, looking down her nose at him as they crept along. She was, after all, a good six inches taller than Martin. She was a bit taller than her friends too, not to mention the rest of their year.  
  
"No, but won't the man in the picture have something to say?" Martin questioned.  
  
"He knows we aren't up to mischief. He'll let us back inside," Sophia assured him as they tip-toed down the stairs, which were icy beneath Martin's bare feet.  
  
"You've done this a lot then," commented Martin.  
  
"Every so often," Sissy replied.  
  
"Keep the chatter down. You never know who might be about," said Olivia crisply, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of them. She was the best at navigating the hallways at night.  
  
Sophia hid a smile behind her hand and winked at Martin, whose mouth had closed with an almost audible snap. At times like this Olivia was all business. She was just as serious about not getting caught as the rest of them, even if she was often more willing to take risks than the rest of them were.  
  
  
The lower halls beneath Ravenclaw Tower were very quiet so late at night, but very dark as well. In a secluded nook near where the stairs to the tower ended, they decided that they would have to risk some light, which meant that Sophia cast a very gentle Lumos spell. The one with the light, they reasoned, was most likely to be spotted and caught, and Sophia could talk her way out of almost anything. When that was done they continued on their way to the kitchens.   
  
The distance had daunted them the first time they had decided to go for a midnight snack, just before the end of the fall term the previous year, after hearing about the entrance from several older students.   
  
How could one get from their part of the school to there without anyone being the wiser?   
  
Obviously, this was a question that generations of Ravenclaws had ruminated over before discovering a solution that gradually became well-known within their house. The interior of the school could be cleverly crossed from the second floor by utilizing a number of seldom used corridors and then taking some utility stairs down to the corridor where the kitchens were located. Finding the entrance to this set of hallways was not an easy thing. Unless one knew what to look for ... and they did.  
  
To unschooled eyes the wall was simply that: an impenetrable wall of stone. But if anyone examined the wall closely, they would find an avian figure scratched into one of the stones at approximately eye-level for an adult, or a sixth or seventh year student.  
  
Sophia held up the light while Sissy sought the mark with her own wand drawn.  
  
"What are you looking for?" asked Martin in a whisper as Corinna nervously glanced up the dark and deserted hallway behind them.  
  
"A sign ..." answered Sissy.  
  
"Trouble ..." answered Corinna.  
  
Olivia giggled as she helped Sissy in her search as it was quite dark and the mark on the stone was very illusive. And after a long summer they couldn't quite remember where it was. Sissy was rather annoyed as she had memorized its location. Or so she had believed. She squinted in the dim light and gestured for more light from Sophia, who was shielding her wand-light with one hand.  
  
"It is coming," said Corinna in a low voice.  
  
Silence settled over them, and they all turned to look down the hall with a sudden sense of dread. There was something in the darkness. A shape. A heavy presence. A shadowy figure that did not belong there. And it was moving slowly, almost gracefully toward them with gliding, purposeful steps.  
  
They could all sense that it wasn't a professor nor a prefect. Not even mean old Mister Pringle, the school's caretaker. Not even he could inspire the sudden sense of panic and dread that had settled over them all.  
  
"We... we've got to get out of here," whispered Martin hoarsely as his eyes bulged in fear.  
  
Sissy whirled around and began tapping random stones with her wand, hoping to find the proper one by chance or luck. Her mouth was dry, and her hands had suddenly begun to shake. She had not been so terrified since discovering a boggart in the pantry when she was eight years old. Sissy shuddered and continued to tap fervently as the others crowded around her, still watching the approaching form.  
  
The shape of the thing seemed human, though it was also very thin and very graceful. Corinna could not take her eyes from it as it moved slowly, silently toward them. It was not in a hurry. It had them cornered and knew it. She could not guess it's purpose, but she was instinctively afraid of it. Her breath hitched as it drew close enough for her to see its red eyes. They glittered in anticipation.  
  
Then suddenly there was a quiet snick behind her and someone, Olivia, yanked her through the opening in the wall and into the other corridor. She breathed a sigh of relief as Sissy and Martin threw their weight against the stone, closing the entrance behind them and barring the path of whatever creature of the night that had been approaching them. She imagined that a sharp hiss had echoed down the corridor as the thing was robbed of its prey.  
  
"Wh... Wh... What wa... was that?" stammered Martin, panting heavily and clutching his wand in a white-knuckled fist. The girls had been almost certain that he had come unarmed, but not so.  
  
"I don't know," said Sophia. Her teeth were chattering.  
  
"The kitchens ... We should be safe there," said Corinna, snapping back to reality and taking her eyes from the wall. She was sure it was still there, possibly seeking a way to follow them.  
  
"Safer, anyway," agreed Sissy, who appeared to be trembling slightly, but recovering.  
  
With that they all began jogging warily toward the castle kitchens where they knew the house elves would still be busy and could protect them if needed.  
  
"Good thing you heard it," Martin commented to Corinna as they ran, all of them being careful to stay together.  
  
"I didn't," said Corinna solemnly.  
  
Martin gulped quietly and just tried to keep up with the girls as they ran.  
  
  
The enormous kitchens of Hogwarts had never seemed so inviting nor such a welcome sight as they did that night when the five Ravenclaws burst into it as though fearful of pursuit. The house elves all stopped what they were doing and stared at the humans, who were out of breath from the run.  
  
"Miss Bellew! Is a pleasure to be seeing you again!" exclaimed one of the elves that knew the stocky young witch quite well.  
  
"Inky," she wheezed, "something was after us."  
  
The small elf pulled at her ears and looked bothered.  
  
"You isn't supposed to be out this late," she said worriedly as some of the other elves approached with trays of snacks for them. "Maybe it is being Mister Pringle."  
  
"No ... it was something bad," said Olivia, shaking her head and closing the door firmly behind them.  
  
"Bad? In the castle? You is fooling!" said Inky dubiously.  
  
"We all saw it," said Sophia.  
  
"What is it looking like?" asked Inky, leading them to a table in the back where they could sit and rest. Normally the girls ate their snacks there.  
  
They all exchanged uncomfortable glances, trying to describe what they had seen.  
  
"Tall and really thin ... with red eyes," said Corinna, who had gained the best look at it.  
  
"We isn't having anyone with red eyes at the castle," said Inky, shaking her head and tugging at her enormous ears again.  
  
"And it was scary," muttered Martin, taking a mug of hot chocolate from a tray that had been left for them.  
  
Inky seemed to notice the newcomer for the first time and smiled at him.  
  
"Don't worry, young master. It won't be coming in here, no matter what it might be," she told him.  
  
"But how are we going to get back to the Aerie with that thing out there?" asked Sophia.  
  
"You don't think that ... that it's waiting for us, do you?" asked Martin, looking up from his hot chocolate, which was doing a poor job calming his nerves.  
  
"It could be," said Sissy, allowing her eyes to drifted toward the door. Of the five of them, she was probably the least afraid, or else hiding it better.  
  
"Then we're trapped here," said Olivia with a frustrated sigh. She was taking it a little better as well, but her heart was pounding so loudly that she imagined the others could hear it.  
  
"There is being more than one way out of the kitchens, if you is needing to return to your rooms," said Inky. "But won't you be eating something before you is going?" she questioned, pushing a tray of cookies toward them.  
  
Sophia and Olivia shook their heads and Sissy politely declined, but Corinna and Martin helped themselves to something to nibble.  
  
"Where's the other exit?" asked Martin.  
  
"Oh, you can be taking the floo back to your common room," Inky informed them. "But you is not allowed to be coming back the same way," she warned them in a stern voice.  
  
"Seems safe enough," said Sophia.  
  
"But if you can just floo into a common room, doesn't that negate the precaution of having passworded entrances?" asked Sissy, arching an eyebrow as she looked at the elf.  
  
"Only the house elves, Headmaster Dippet, and Mister Pringle is using the kitchen floos, Miss Howard, but I is making an exception tonight so you is all getting back safely," said Inky in a quieter voice. They had the impression that the other house elves weren't supposed to know.  
  
"Then I think we should be getting back," said Olivia, standing and looking around for the floo.  
  
"Very good, Miss Scarrow," said Inky with a little curtsey. "Follow me."  
  
Inky led them to a more secluded fireplace than those used for baking and other kitchen tasks and whisked a potted from floo powder from the mantle. She looked around for a moment before ushering them one by one into the floo, giving them a handful of powder, and bidding them good-night.  
  
  
Sophia was the last to return by floo to the common room. The others were dusting the soot from their dressing gowns and nightclothes. She noted that Sissy's eyes darted from darkened corner to darkened corner as she did so. Sophia shuddered at the thought of anything so frightening and unwholesome managing to creep into their sanctuary.  
  
"We should go to bed now," said Olivia. Her lips were a thin, serious line.  
  
Sophia knew what she really meant: time to send young Martin away and have a serious discussion. She couldn't have agreed more.  
  
"But ..." Martin began to protest anxiously.  
  
"It's late," said Sophia with a reassuring smile. "Everything will keep until morning."  
  
"But that thing ..."  
  
"Go to bed," said Sissy sternly, suddenly towering over him and pointing toward the stairs. He looked instantly defeated and simply walked away. "Does what he's told," she murmured with a shrug after he had gone.  
  
"For the best," shrugged Olivia, leading the way toward their own dormitory.  
  
They walked up the stairs in silences and closed the door behind them. The lamps were still lit, making the room seem more cheery than the common room. The deep blue curtains fluttered in the breeze created by the opening and closing of the door. The room was circular with a single window looking out on the grounds, and unlike the first year dormitory, it did not face the Quidditch pitch, which Olivia thought was a shame. There were, of course, four beds, each with a trunk at its foot, and a door leading to the bath they shared with the first year girls' dormitory.  
  
Dormitories at Hogwarts were much the same, even in different houses. Only the common rooms differed significantly and the students didn't know that, though it was wildly suspected, especially between the more competitive houses.   
  
At any rate the girls liked their quarters for the most part, although they had not quite settled in yet. That is to say, when they walked in that evening Sissy's little eagle owl Zubin hooted petulantly from his cage by her bed. A pair of half-grown kittens belonging to Olivia and Sophia were eyeing him with more than casual interest.  
  
Sissy ran and quickly let Zubin out of his cage, sighing as he winged his way through the window with a yellow-eyed glare.  
  
"I bet he catches something absolutely beastly and brings it back here," she said before flopping down on her bed and curling up around a pillow.  
  
Corinna, the only one of the four without a pet, only shrugged and watched the bird until it disappeared while her roommates collected their cats, which had been Christmas presents the previous term.  
  
"We have a problem," said Sophia in a matter-of-fact tone as she sat down on her bed with Sukie, her playful little Siamese.  
  
"Oh, do we now?" challenged Sissy.  
  
"Sophia's right," Olivia told her. Max, the affectionate blue cat she was cuddling, let out a meow of agreement and began to purr loudly.  
  
"If we keep this to ourselves, something terrible will happen," said Corinna, sitting in the window sill.  
  
"And if we tell anyone, then we will get into trouble," Sissy reminded her.  
  
"I said it wasn't a good night ..." said Corinna, gazing out at the night sky.  
  
"And we should have listened," Sophia acknowledged, "but what are we supposed to do now?"  
  
"Martin ... He could go to his father. I don't think Professor Dumbledore would punish him too severely," suggested Olivia.  
  
"And you're thinking he will accept sole responsibility," Sissy pointed out.  
  
"His parents are Gryffindors ..." said Corinna.  
  
"And he's one of us. Would we give each other away without anything to gain? Without a good reason?" asked Sophia.  
  
"No," answered Sissy.  
  
"And that brings us to another matter," said Olivia. The others looked at her, waiting. "What exactly did we see?"  
  
They were uncomfortably silent. Even Max had stopped his purring.  
  
"It wasn't one of the ghosts," said Corinna.  
  
"No," Sissy agreed, "definitely not."  
  
"What then?" asked Olivia. "A ... a dementor?"  
  
They all shuddered at the very thought of something so sinister and vile inside the castle.  
  
"It had eyes," Corinna pointed out, "and they were red and shining with ... a light. It was so unnatural ... so chilling."  
  
"Whatever it was, I hope we never run into it again," said Sissy.   
  
"Now we must get some sleep or we won't be able to face our first day of classes." said Sophia with a barely stifled yawn.  
  


* * *

  
Thanks for the review, silversea!  
  
  



	3. Dawn of another day

Chapter Three  
  
Dawn of another day  
  
  
  
Morning came all too soon for the four Ravenclaws, and in all fairness none of them felt like getting out of bed as they had not slept very well nor very long. But they had no choice. It was the first day of classes. They would be receiving their schedules at breakfast and could not afford to be late. And not even the experience of the night before, dimmed by the brilliant morning light coming in through the window, could entirely eclipse the excitement of starting another year.  
  
As Sophia braided her hair in front of one of the mirrors with help from Corinna, who could do everyone's hair except her own, she frowned at the circles under her eyes. Corinna, seeing the frown, stuck out her tongue.  
  
"I guess this means that we'll be adhering to the rules for a while," she said.  
  
"I should say so," chuckled Sophia.  
  
From across the room where she was calmly untangling her long blond hair Sissy added her two knuts to the discussion: "Until we're sure it's safe or until it isn't a school night?"  
  
"Boat," said Olivia, her mouth full of bobby pins as she put her hair up in its usual bun.  
  
"What was that?" asked Sophia with a confused look.  
  
"Both," she said, taking the pins from her mouth.  
  
"Why don't you wear your hair down for a change? It would look more flattering," said Sissy as she watched Olivia placing pins her dark brown hair. She had worn in it in that fashion for as long as she had been in school.  
  
"We might have potions today. Or worse, something outdoors where it's windy," answered Olivia with a stubborn look.  
  
"Merlin forbid," said Sissy with a roll of her eyes.  
  
"Don't forget," said Sophia, interrupting before Olivia and Sissy could begin to squabble, "that we need to ask Martin to do us that favor ..."  
  
"Who's going to ask him?" Sissy wanted to know. "Because if you think I am, you are out of your mind."  
  
"Corinna, why don't you do it?" suggested Sophia as they finished with her braids.  
  
"Me? Why me? You're better at this sort of thing!"  
  
"But I wouldn't want him to feel as though we were pressuring him." said Sophia with her classic none-of-that! look.  
  
"Fine, but he'll probably refuse," grumbled Corinna.  
  
"Either way, we should hurry if we want to catch him before he goes down to breakfast," said Sophia practically.  
  
  
Martin Dumbledore looked none the worse for wear when he walked down the stairs leading to the well-lit common room that morning. Sissy couldn't help feeling annoyed as the younger student bounded over them with his satchel of books slung over one shoulder. He studied them for a moment as he approached and made a face.  
  
"Good morning, girls. How late were all of you up last night?" he asked.  
  
"Not long after we sent you to bed," shot Sissy.  
  
"I guess mum was right: girls really do need their beauty sleep," Martin commented with a slow nod.  
  
Sissy was seized with the sudden urge to hex him, but Sophia tactfully stopped her from drawing her wand.  
  
"Yeah ..." Sophia nodded in agreement.  
  
"We were wondering if you could do something for us," said Corinna, biting her lower lip.  
  
"Sure. Anything," said Martin.  
  
"Er, can you tell your father about the thing we saw? We think someone ought to know, but ... we don't want any trouble," said Corinna.  
  
"I thought about that this morning. I know he's going to want to talk to me ... about the Sorting ... so I figure I might as well tell him," said Martin. His shoulders slumped at the mere thought of talking to his father.  
  
"And you won't mention us?" asked Sissy cautiously.  
  
"Of course not. There's no need for all of us to catch it, now is there?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"Thanks for last night, even if it didn't go exactly as planned. It was ... interesting. Not the type of thing that I imagined ..."  
  
"Ravenclaws doing?" Olivia finished with a grin.  
  
"Well, mum always said that Ravenclaws spend all their time studying or in the library and stuff," said Martin with a shrug. "I guess maybe she doesn't know everything." he added with a half smile.  
  
"It's different, I think, when you're on the outside looking in. You only see the surfaces of things, not the reality," said Sophia.  
  
"Um, we'll be late for breakfast if we don't go soon ..." Corinna reminded them all.  
  
"And we can't have that," said Sissy.  
  
The five of them left the Aerie together, ready to face the first day of classes.  
  
  
"Second years, here are your schedules," said Ambrose, the fifth year prefect, giving them slips of parchments with theirs classes on it just as they sat down to eat. "And you ..." he said to Martin with a frown. The first year schedules had already been given out. He was the last to receive one.  
  
"Charms," said Sissy blankly.  
  
"Oh, Merlin, not Flitwick in the morning," said Olivia. They both liked their head of house very much, respecting both his character and intellect, but in the early hours of the day, his squeaky voice went straight through their heads.  
  
"I've got Flying lessons," offered Martin.  
  
"Don't fall asleep on your broom then," said Sissy dryly.  
  
"Then History of Magic," said Sophia rather glumly.  
  
"Why are they doing this to us? What did we ever do to them?" lamented Corinna, who loved history, but was just as bored by Professor Binns as everyone else.  
  
"We'll have to write my mum for some Sugar Quills," said Sissy, whose mother never failed to send her anything she asked for, including sweets that she distributed to her friends.  
  
"I've got Charms after you then," Martin informed them. "Is Professor Flitwick nice?"  
  
"Wonderful," said Olivia with a quick nod.  
  
"Double potions this afternoon," Sissy noted.  
  
"Ugh!" said Corinna and Olivia in unison, earning a disapproving look from Sophia.  
  
"I have Herbology," said Martin.  
  
"Be careful if you're in there with the Slytherins. They try to make Professor Sprout's life a living nightmare and we usually get caught in the middle," warned Sophia.  
  
"Or near a dangerous specimen when it finally snaps," said Sissy sourly. She had nearly been bitten by a carnivorous plant that the Slytherins had been baiting the year before.  
  
Martin only raised his eyebrows in response to her statement.  
  
"It could be worse," said Olivia.  
  
"How?" Corinna wanted to know.  
  
"I don't think we have potions with the Gryffindors this year," said Olivia with a hopeful look.  
  
"An - dare I say it? - explosion-free year?" said Sissy with a derisive snort.  
  
After a few moments of silently reading their schedule and eating their breakfast, which had nearly been forgotten in the excitement, Olivia said, "We could win this year. There's no reason why we can't."  
  
"The House Cup?" asked Martin.  
  
"It's all she thinks about at meal times," said Sissy with a little smirk.  
  
"I just ... want to win," said Olivia with a shrug. The look in her eyes was hopeful and intense.  
  
"Bellew!" called a voice down the table.  
  
Corinna started and looked in that direction. It was the captain of the Quidditch team, David Clearwater, who was eating the morning meal with the rest of the team.  
  
"Excuse me," she said to her friends as he gestured that he wanted to speak to her.  
  
  
David made room for her at the table, and Corinna sat down, but she felt very awkward. What if he expected her to eat all of her meals with the team? She wanted to have them with Sissy, Sophia, and Olivia like always. She frowned. So did Clearwater.  
  
"I supposed you've heard," he said.  
  
"Heard what?"  
  
He glanced at his teammates, and his shoulders drooped. It wasn't good, whatever it was.  
  
"I'm off the team. My marks ..." he said, looking away from her. The other players were staring at their plates. "I thought Flitwick would reconsider once my parents ... But that's how it goes ..."  
  
"You aren't playing?" asked Corinna, afraid of what she was hearing.  
  
"Yeah ..." he sighed. "Thought I would have a year to train you to take my place as Keeper, but that's out the window. Flitwick decided yesterday evening. Ambrose is the new captain. You're the new Keeper," Clearwater informed her. He looked heartbroken.  
  
"I'm sorry," stammered Corinna.  
  
"Don't be, Bellew. You came recommended from Madam Hooch, and her word means a lot," he said, referring to the former Holyhead Harpy who was the flying instructor. She was still quite young and had joined the staff only two terms earlier. Some of the older students like David had actually seen her play professional Quidditch.  
  
Corinna colored and said, "Thanks then."  
  
"Welcome to the team. I just wish Ambrose could be telling you this next year," said Clearwater, jabbing the prefect next to him with his elbow. "Practice is being arranged right now. Ambrose will get back to you," said David. "You can go back to your breakfast now."  
  
"Thanks," she nodded before doing just that.  
  
  
When Corinna returned to her seat, her friends had nearly finished their breakfasts and the girls were flipping through their Charms' texts, which they had, of course, already thoroughly perused on the train the day before.  
  
"I'm playing Quidditch," Corinna blurted out.  
  
"We know. Reserve Keeper," said Sissy with an undisguised roll of her eyes.  
  
"No ... Clearwater can't play this term," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"That's absurd! Why ever not?" asked Olivia indignantly.  
  
"His marks ..."  
  
"Oh," said Olivia with sudden understanding.  
  
"Then you're going to be the team's Keeper?" asked Martin, raising his eyebrows in surprise, and perhaps a bit of awe too.  
  
Corinna only nodded and began to push her eggs about on her plate. They were already cold, and she certainly didn't feel like eating. It was an honor being chosen for the reserves as a second year. But to _play_ for the team? She felt too inexperienced, and rightly so, having only played 'friendly' games with her house mates before. She had not even owned a broom growing up. Too expensive and dangerous, according to her wizard father and muggle mother, respectively. The Tinderblast that they had bought her that summer was used, and pulled strongly to the left, and was hardly a match for the newer Shooting Stars that most of the other players rode.  
  
"That's quite a stroke of luck," commented Sissy with a smile. "Not that this was unexpected. Last year Clearwater probably spent five hours on the Quidditch Pitch for every one in the library. He's smart, but it takes more than just raw intelligence to succeed. He never studied, and finally, he's paying for it," she told them unappologetically.  
  
"But he was so dedicated to the team ..." sighed Corinna.  
  
"He should have had an eye on his marks too," Olivia admitted grudgingly.   
  
She felt nothing but sorry for Clearwater. It was surely a terrible blow to him being taken off the team, not to mention what having less experienced Keeper did to their chances of winning the Quidditch Cup and by extension the House Cup.  
  
"A lesson for all of us," said Sophia seriously, looking from Olivia to Corinna. "No neglecting your marks for the team," she added.  
  
"Right ..." Corinna agreed.  
  
Just then they heard the sound of screeching high above them as the mail began to arrive. An owl dropped a letter on Martin's empty plate. Sissy, whose father was an Unspeakable, recognized it as a Ministry of Magic owl.  
  
"What's that?" she asked curiously as he opened it. None of the girls had mail so early in the term, although they noticed that several first years received mail, including parcels containing things they had forgotten.  
  
"A letter from my mum, congratulating me for getting into Ravenclaw," Martin answered with a shy smile as he read.  
  
"How sweet!" said Sophia. "Won't you read it to us?"  
  
Martin blushed a little and said, "You don't really want to hear it, do you?"  
  
"Apparently Sophia does," said Sissy.  
  
Corinna nodded that she wanted him to read the letter to them as well ... mostly because it would take her mind off what she had already begun to dub as 'the Quidditch situation'. And because there was something rather sweet about the way Martin had asked the question. Most of the boys in their own year they had found out early on were stupid prats who were only interested in Gob Stones or collecting Chocolate Frog cards. But Martin seemed different somehow, although Corinna admitted that it was too soon to say for certain. But for now, he seemed all right.  
  
"I do as well," said Olivia encouragingly.  
  
With that Martin cleared his throat and began reading, but the color never left his cheeks: "_Dear Martin, I'm so proud! All those years of tutors and not being allowed to go outside whenever you wanted have certainly seemed to pay off, haven't they? I imagine your father nearly swallowed his tongue. I would have given anything to have been there to see it! And I know you must be thinking about family tradition and being an Eagle in a family of Lions. But that isn't the case. My brother - your Uncle Merrick - was a Ravenclaw, and so were two of your great uncles. So in a way, you are carrying on a tradition and a very fine one. Be sure to mind your studies and to make some friends. I know you will love Hogwarts just as much as I did. Love, mum_."  
  
"It sounds like you're very close to your mother," observed Sissy as he put the letter back in its envelope and stuffed it into his satchel.  
  
"I am," he admitted, frowning and trying to decide if she were about to tease him.  
  
"I can imagine, what with your father being here for most of the year," nodded Sophia, whose own mother taught at a small school for young wizarding children while her father kept a shop in Glasgow, commuting back and forth by broom on the weekends.  
  
Martin chuckled and said, "But he always comes home for the summer, and for the holidays when he can manage it. Summer's when mum is busiest at the Ministry, so it all works out."  
  
"She's an Auror?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That must be really neat," said Olivia. "She must have loads of stories to tell about her job."  
  
"Actually ... she won't tell me about her work or anything like that. Says such things aren't for children's ears," said Martin with an annoyed expression. Obviously he didn't think he was a child anymore.  
  
"Was she one when the last war was going on?" asked Sissy, looking quite interested for a change.  
  
"She entered training while the war was still on, but father says that she didn't see hardly any action," he explained.  
  
"My father is in the Department of Mysteries and went to France to help fight _him_," said Sissy.  
  
"Grindelwald?" asked Martin.  
  
Sophia, Olivia, and Sissy all blanched at the name of the worst Dark Wizard in the last hundred years or more. Corinna, whose parents didn't discuss such things, remained unmoved.  
  
"Your father killed him, so I guess you can say his name, but most people don't. It's unlucky," Sissy explained to him.  
  
"I didn't know that," he stammered.  
  
"It's all right, but I think you would give some of the older professors a heart attack if you did that in class," said Sophia.  
  
"Names are powerful things, you know," said Olivia somberly.  
  
Martin wanted to tell them what his father said about names and about fear, but it was time to go to class and he was really looking forward to having flying lessons.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: Yes, it was a shorter chapter, but most of them are quite a bit longer than this.  
  
  
Gkey: I'm glad that you like.  
  
Michelle: Disappointed in Martin? What for? I know I'd never want to be a Gryffindor. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
LudificoScriptumMagicasArtes: I loved all of your questions. With few exceptions, they are exactly the ones that I hoped people would be asking, especially the one about Martin's mother. About his Gryffindor qualities ... are we sure he has any to discover? *grin* Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	4. Flames

Chapter Four  
  
Flames  
  
  
  
The quartet of Ravenclaws walked into the Charms' classroom to find half the desks already filled with Hufflepuffs, and a few of their house mates who were rather early for class. Across the room a pair of Hufflepuff twins with pigtails waved to Sissy and Olivia, who had been their partners in Herbology the year before. Olivia waved back and winced at the thought of ever being paired up with them again, recalling the constant refrain of, "Why don't we try it again to be sure?" It had nearly driven her insane. A plant, magical or no, can only be repotted so many times. Sissy, on the other hand, simply ignored the twins, the both of whom she considered rather dim-witted and quite insufferable.  
  
They had just managed to find seats, comfortably close to the front of the classroom, when Professor Flitwick entered. The Charms' professor was very short, quite tiny some would say, but his students accorded him great respect, not because of his physical stature, but because of that of his intellect. In his own way he was quite formidable: shrewd, clever, and discerning -- which made it difficult to lie to him and get away with it, among other things.   
  
He was also well-respected and admired by the students of Ravenclaw house because he was very fair and impartial when it came to judging their marks and classroom performance. Some professors, they all knew, favored their own students in the distribution of both marks and house points. Not so with Professor Flitwick. And the Ravenclaws did not begrudge this lack of favoritism as they knew that whatever marks or points they might earn from him were genuine and had truly been earned, not simply given to them. This fact also garnered Flitwick the grudging respect of the other houses, even Slytherin.  
  
But, of course, all of his students would also admit that his squeaky voice was enough to drive them batty, and the students in his house sometimes chafed about the extraordinary amount of rules they lived under, including those that regulated their academic conduct and the number of hours they spent studying. Flitwick was of the opinion, one to which he often gave voice, that if they studied too much, they would burn out or possibly ruin their eyesight, which led to rules and other little 'tricks', most of which were practiced only in the confines of the Aerie and his classroom. And to tell the truth, not very many of the older students were bother by not being permitted to study in the common room until the wee hours and lived by the house rules like good Ravenclaws. It was only the younger students, not quite indoctrinated into the 'cult of intellect', who seemed to be troubled by it.  
  
And the girls, Sissy and Corinna especially, were among those who preferred to read late at night and, if they had had the nerve, might have asked their head of house to relax the rule. Not that they thought he would, but Sissy didn't see the harm in asking ... but Corinna thought they might get into trouble for making 'an impertinent suggestion' to the professor and insisted during the previous term that they not make any waves.  
  
The professor, after a few words concerning what they would be doing during the course of the term, instructed them to read pages twenty-one through thirty before they would begin the practical part of the lesson on Flame Freezing Charms, which was considered at one time a staple of early Charms' educated because of its potentially practical application, though the need for it was not as great as it had once been.  
  
Olivia stole a glance at Flitwick, who was reading a book nearly as large as he was at his desk, and glanced at Sophia before taking a scrap of parchment and writing a note.  
  
"You don't think he's going to set us on fire, do you?" Olivia wrote.  
  
Sophia stifled a sound that could have been mistaken as a giggle and wrote back: "Merlin! I hope not!" She then threw a meaningful glance toward the Hufflepuffs, a few of whom were staring into space.  
  
Sissy on the other side of Sophia gestured for the note and wrote on it: "You twits! The whole castle would go up. Now, read!"  
  
Of course Flitwick did not set anyone on fire, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, as a special re-burnable board was used to conduct such demonstrations, most of which ended with the Hufflepuffs having only a pile of cold ashes, which eventually coalesced back into a board, to show for their efforts. Not that the Ravenclaws fared so much better. The hunk of charmed wood that Sophia and Olivia shared was badly scorched during each of their attempts. Sissy and Corinna on the other hand found that while precision timing was required for the charm, it was hardly as difficult as some people were making it.  
  
"Freezes the flames, not the wood," Corinna kept mumbling absently to herself.  
  
"Very good, Miss Bellew," commented Flitwick as he passed, watching her finally manage to freeze the flames on her fifth or sixth attempt. Even she had lost count. "Five points for Ravenclaw," he said with a nod before dashing over to the Hufflepuff side of the room to keep the flames, and the freezing, from getting out of control.  
  
"I swear," said Olivia in a low voice, "we will never need this charm! No one's been burned at the stake since my grandfather was a student."  
  
"It has other applications," said Sissy, massaging her temples while she waited for the flames to extinguish so that she could have another go at it.  
  
"There are more efficient spells," agreed Sophia, fanning the smoke from her board away.  
  
"For blocking fire and not getting burned?" asked Sissy with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Sophia considered the question as Olivia tried to freeze the flames again, with limited success and much annoyance. Any minute now, she was going to lose her nearly notorious temper and hurl the board at someone.  
  
"Yes, but then ... they are more advanced," she replied.  
  
"You mean obscure, esoteric, and difficult," Sissy corrected with a disdainful smirk.  
  
"Careful or your face is going to stick like that," growled Olivia, who absolutely hated that look.  
  
"Maybe ..." Sophia conceded, waiting for the board to unburn itself so she could have another turn.  
  
"Stick with what's simple. Oftentimes it's the best answer," said Sissy before nudging Corinna, who was daydreaming again. "Show us how it's done again."  
  
  
History of Magic class passed in a blur of boredom and note-taking for the girls before they were free for the midday meal. They, at Corinna's urging, practically raced to the Great Hall and found seats at their house table, which was slowly filling with students as many of them were taking their time to get there.  
  
"Should we save a seat for Martin?" asked Olivia.  
  
"I don't know ..." said Sophia doubtfully. "It might be better for him if he ate with those boys in his year."  
  
Sissy looked down the table at the five young wizards flicking peas at each other and wrinkled her nose, "What? With them? They'll turn him into a little brute in a matter of minutes. And I certainly don't want to see that."  
  
"Right," said Olivia, tossing her books into a seat to save it for him.  
  
"Where is he?" asked Corinna, raising up in her seat to scour the hall. "Do you suppose he's ... done it already?" she questioned, referring to their request that Martin tell his father about the 'monster' they had seen.  
  
"He might be doing that now," said Sissy, nodding slightly toward the high table. Professor Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Any thoughts on what we might have seen?" asked Sophia.  
  
"Something Dark," answered Corinna, not looking up from her plate.  
  
"I've ... I gave it some thought during our last class," admitted Olivia solemnly.  
  
"And?" asked Sissy impatiently.  
  
"Unless we hear something from Martin, we should go to the library this afternoon ... and do some research of our own into the matter," said Olivia.  
  
They were all quiet for a moment until Corinna put down her fork with a clatter, snapping them out of it.  
  
"Are you serious?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Very," answered Olivia.  
  
"Then I hope we don't have a lot of potions' homework, because I can imagine that this will take a bit of research," said Sophia practically.  
  
  
Martin Dumbledore walked out of the Charms' classroom with his head held high, having performed quite adequately at the day's task of feather levitation. As he made his way through the crowded corridor vaguely in the direction of the Great Hall, he saw his father walking toward him, probably from his own classroom, which was just down the corridor and around a corner. The elder Dumbledore smiled when he saw his son.  
  
"Martin, I was hoping to run into you. Mister Ambrose said that your year was having Charms' just now. The young man has a great memory for schedules. His father, you know, works with the Magical Transportation Department in the portkey scheduling office," Dumbledore told him. "Nevertheless, I was wondering if you might take your lunch with me in my office. I wanted to talk to you," said the professor.  
  
For a moment Martin felt torn. He knew that the girls, the only friends he had made so far, would be waiting for him, but he also knew that now was as good of a time as any to tell his father about what he had seen the night before. He nodded mutely and followed Dumbledore toward the stairs leading to the floor where the Transfigurations' professor had his office. This, Martin knew, was going to be quite a meal.  
  
  
The office was a hodgepodge of colors, though it had not changed very much since Martin had last seen it three years earlier. Each instructor who had occupied the office had left their mark upon it. Yellow hand-woven tapestries depicting some scene from the so-called glory days of the Badgers left by the Hufflepuff head of house who had taught Transfigurations in the late eighteen hundreds. Green and silver wallpaper that was just beginning to fade from their Slytherin predecessor. Ravenclaw blue carpets and drapes from nigh on a century and a half before, the latter of which was looking moth-eaten here and there. And scarlet and gold colored chairs at the table by the window, brought by Dumbledore from his study at home because he wanted to leave his mark on the room as well.  
  
"Make yourself comfortable, Martin," instructed Dumbledore, gesturing toward those chairs while he went to ring for the house elves.  
  
"Yes, father," said Martin quietly, taking a seat and peering out the window.   
  
The office was only on the first floor, but the view was rather nice as it looked out over the area where he had had flying lessons just that morning. He pondered for a moment whether his father might have watched before remembering that he had had a class at that time.  
  
A soft pop as house elf appeared with a large covered tray jarred him from his thoughts.  
  
"Lunch is being served," said the elf, placing the tray in front of Martin on the table by the window and uncovering it. He placed two glasses on the table as well and with a snap of his fingers, they were filled with cold pumpkin juice.  
  
"Thank you, Ardy," said the professor with a nod to the elf.  
  
"You is welcome," he replied before vanishing with another pop.  
  
Dumbledore took a seat with his son and smiled.  
  
"They love doing that, you know. Whisking food about the castle, I mean. It's a challenge to them," he chuckled.  
  
"They make me homesick for Finny and Ilky," Martin admitted quietly, naming the Dumbledore family elves. He had spent a lot of time with them as a child.  
  
"And I imagine that they miss you as well," chuckled Dumbledore. "Speaking of home, your mother sent you a letter this morning, didn't she?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," answered Martin with a slight smile.   
  
"I couldn't reach her by floo last evening as she's out in the field, but I did owl her regarding the results on the ceremony," Albus informed him.  
  
Martin looked up from his plate, feeling a tremor of nervousness, and asked, "You aren't disappointed, are you, father?"  
  
"Of course not," answered Professor Dumbledore, raising his graying eyebrows slightly, "but I must concede that I was a bit surprised."  
  
"Really?" asked Martin.  
  
"Your mother and I both assumed ..." he said.  
  
"Oh," commented the younger Dumbledore, returning his attention to his plate, despite the fact that he no longer felt especially hungry.  
  
His father reached across the table and patted his hand.  
  
"Martin, it's all right. The Hat is quite correct in its judgment: you do embody the many fine qualities that Ravenclaws possess. You have a good head on your shoulders, Martin, and what's more, you're well on your way to learning how to use it. Ravenclaw house will only help you with that and with other things. Those students fortunate enough to be sorted into Ravenclaw are a rare breed, so to speak: creative, somewhat individualistic, and rather open-minded. I am quite proud that you are one of them," Dumbledore assured his son.  
  
Martin looked up and blinked back tears of relief before he said, "Thank you. I ... I was worried ..."  
  
"Don't be," Dumbledore chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze. "Besides, think how awkward it would have been to have your own father as head of house."  
  
Martin managed a half-smile and said, "I can certainly imagine."  
  
He took a few bites of his lunch, realizing that all of his concerns about letting his father done were unfounded. His father would have been proud no matter what house he was sorted into, perhaps even Slytherin.  
  
"Well, maybe not Slytherin," thought Martin, recalling the overheard conversations from his childhood when his parents talked about various Dark Wizards running amok. Always Slytherins ...  
  
And those dark thoughts reminded Martin of the thing he had seen the night before, not that it had been necessarily far from his thoughts, but riding a real broom ... and being told the he showed promise at both flying and at Charms had driven it temporarily from his mind. His heart sank as he watched his father arranging the leftovers on his plate into the form of a smiling face.  
  
"There's something I have to tell you ..." said Martin, putting down his fork.  
  
"What's that?" asked Albus curiously.  
  
"I was out of the dormitory last night."  
  
"Hmm... Not wasting any time," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes. "But I take it you weren't caught."  
  
"Er, yes and no," he said, squirming in his seat.  
  
Noticing his discomfort, Dumbledore gestured toward the battered couch in corner. Its color had been transfigured so many times that it was simply beige, though it had begun its life as a pleasant shade of red. Martin nodded and went with his father to sit down.  
  
"I noticed the point totals this morning were all even before breakfast, so I suppose you weren't apprehended by Mister Pringle as he isn't a very forgiving man," said Dumbledore lightly.  
  
"I was seen, but not caught," said Martin.  
  
"By whom?"  
  
"By what is more like it," answered Martin, rubbing his eyes as he remembered the dark form that had been gliding toward them.  
  
"One of the ghosts then?"  
  
Martin's shoulders slumped, but he replied, "No, I've seen ghosts before ... and poltergeists. I'm not afraid of them. This was very different, father."  
  
The professor looked at Martin with concern in his eyes and asked, "What did you see exactly?"  
  
"We ..." Martin began before he could catch himself. "We ... Well, well ... I saw a dark form. It was very thin from what I could tell and tall ... taller than you, maybe," he stammered, recovering somewhat.  
  
"In robes?"  
  
"I think so ..." he said, squinting to remember. "Or maybe a long cloak ..."  
  
"Can you tell me anything else about the ... person you saw?"  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"I imagine what you saw was Mister Pringle's apprentice, young Filch, who is training to be the next caretaker of the castle. He's an odd one. Goes around at night with his cat ..." said Dumbledore.  
  
"It wasn't him ... unless he has red eyes," said Martin, remembering how Corinna had described them. She had got a better look at the creature than him.  
  
"Red eyes? Are you certain?" asked Dumbledore quickly.  
  
"Quite," Martin answered. "Can you tell me what I saw, father?" he asked.  
  
Dumbledore looked away for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before he told Martin, "I don't believe I can."  
  
Martin could tell than he was holding something back. The look in his brilliant blue eyes said so, but he chose not to question him and held his tongue.  
  
"Then I guess I should go to class now. I have Herbology soon, and I have to find my way to the greenhouses," he said, rising from the couch.  
  
The professor stood as well and seemed to regard him with a concerned, assessing gaze before taking him by the shoulder and pulling him into a loose embrace.  
  
"Son, don't go wandering around after curfew, at least not for a while, eh?"  
  
"All right ..." he agreed, knowing that something was terribly wrong. His father suddenly seemed quite worried ... and if Albus Dumbledore was worried, then so was Martin.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: I never imagined that I would have any difficulty writing Dumbledore as a parental figure, yet here we are.  
  
  
lama: I do believe that there will be a Quidditch match or so later in the story. I am very glad that you are enjoying the story so much. Thanks for the review!  
  
Michelle: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
GKey: I hope none of the seemingly Anti-Hufflepuff sentiments in this chapter bother you. I sort of imagine some mild antagonism between the Eagles and Badgers. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I know! Ravenclaw tends to be a bit overlooked. Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	5. Giving a name to fear

Chapter Five  
  
Giving a name to fear  
  
  
  
Following what Sissy considered a distressingly long double potions' class with the inept Hufflepuffs, the girls returned to the Aerie to drop off their books and things before going to the library. About halfway down the stairs they ran into Martin Dumbledore, almost quite literally. Sissy wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw how dusty and dirty his robes were.  
  
"Herbology?" she questioned.  
  
"Yeah," he said, plucking at his robes, which gave off a small cloud of dust.  
  
Olivia for one could not imagine what the first years had been doing ... unless they had been left alone in the greenhouse ... for an extended period of time ... and a dirt-clod fight had broken out. That was one theory at least.  
  
"Professor Sprout must have really put you to work," commented Sophia, hiding a grin behind her hand.  
  
"Yeah, it was disgusting," said Martin, who seemed to blush ever-so-slightly. "Now I have to change clothes."  
  
"Do you want to meet us in the library after? We're looking into ... the thing we saw," said Corinna, lowering her voice slightly.  
  
Martin seemed to show sudden interest at that suggestion and nodded fervently, "I'd love to. Would you believe that I haven't even had the chance to visit the library yet?"  
  
"See you when you're ... more presentable then," said Sissy, attempting to hurry him on his way.  
  
After the sound of his hurried footsteps on the stairs had faded, Sophia chuckled and commented, "He is most _definitel_y one of us."  
  
  
They weren't far from the library when a voice called out from behind them, "Hey, Bellew, have a moment?" It was Ignatius Ambrose.  
  
Corinna stopped and turned, as did her companions, and she answered, "Of course." Her stomach flip-flopped as she realized that the new Quidditch captain was probably there on 'official team business' of some sort.  
  
"Join us in the library when you're done?" asked Olivia.  
  
"I'll only need her for a few minutes," Ambrose assured them with a smile that Sissy recognized as patronizing. For a fifth year, he was unbearably sure of himself and arrogant.  
  
"Right," said Sophia, noting the antagonistic look that passed through Sissy's eyes like a storm. "Let's go," she told Sissy and Olivia.  
  
"I wanted to let you know that practice starts next Monday. We've arranged to have the field from four until six in the evening and from five to seven on the weekends," he informed her. "Unless you've taken on academic responsibilities that would be in conflict," he added in a tone that let Corinna know that such responsibilities would need to be ... altered.  
  
"Five to seven in the afternoon then?" she questioned to be sure.  
  
Ambrose laughed and said, "No, I'm afraid not."  
  
Her heart sank. Mornings were not the best time for her. And she knew it was going to be intolerably cold and damp in a few months. Not to mention that it would be nearly dark and that she simply wasn't a terribly experienced flyer yet.  
  
"Saturday and Sunday?" she asked.  
  
"That's right, Bellew. Can you handle it?" he asked.  
  
"I think so."  
  
"That's the spirit! We've had some rotten luck this term - no offense - so it's up to us to try and make our own luck now if we hope to have a shot at the Cup."  
  
"I know, and Olivia would never forgive me if we didn't give Gryffindor a run for their money."  
  
"Olivia?"  
  
"Scarrow. She's absolutely dying to be a Beater," said Corinna.  
  
"Better and better. We'll need one next year. Come spring, I'll see if we can give her a bit o' advanced training," said Ambrose with a wolfish grin.  
  
"She'd like that."  
  
"I suppose I should let you catch up with your friends now. It wouldn't do for us to lose two Keepers in one year because they let their studies go," said Ambrose, who seemed to be taking the loss of Clearwater in stride. Or perhaps he had wanted the captaincy that badly.  
  
"No, it wouldn't do at all," Corinna agreed.   
  
She couldn't quite decide if she liked the older student or not. He was polite enough. Neither more nor less so than most of the boys in their house. But there was something rather calculating about his demeanor, and she was more than half certain that his slightly rustic accent was a put-on to keep people off their guard. She knew that Sissy and Olivia both disliked him because he came off as condescending, perhaps even more so as a prefect, but they had all had thankfully little to do with him the year before. Maybe he just seemed a little too self-assured, even for an older student.  
  
"I will see you next Monday then. Bring your broom and be on time," he told her.  
  
"See you then," she said.  
  
He gave a little nod and walked away in the direction of the Aerie. She was rather grateful that he wasn't going her way.  
  
  
The library was nearly empty that afternoon when the girls arrived and selected a secluded table, well away from the desk of the middle-aged librarian Madam Pince. During the previous term the librarian had often given them distrustful glances whenever they were huddled over a book together. It was almost as though she could sense that they were delving into topics best left to older students - hexes and jinxes in Sissy's case, as often as not.   
  
Sissy's best subject, not to mention favorite, was Defense Against the Dark Arts, formerly known as Practical Defense Against Sorcery, but it was well-known among her friends that she intended to take the advanced courses in defense when she reached sixth year, which were supposed to be the nearest thing to 'Dark Arts' being taught at the school, although the classes were mostly described as mostly theoretical magic and not practical application. While this fascination worried Sophia a bit, Corinna and Olivia were rather impressed with her grasp of the material from their first year, at the end of which Sissy had had the highest marks in the defense class.  
  
And that is why when they began searching for books on strange creatures that go bump in the night, Sissy knew approximately where they should look for texts on that very topic. So far she had selected _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_, the thirty-third edition, to help them in their quest, although she wasn't certain that the thing in question was indeed a 'beast'. Sophia, who already had an interest in magical creatures, was already pouring over it while Olivia and herself scoured the shelves for anything that seemed a likely source of information.  
  
"Do you think it was a boggart?" asked Olivia quietly, careful to keep her voice low, taking a book on that topic from the shelf in front of them.  
  
Sissy took it from her and returned it to its place.  
  
"Couldn't have been. Boggarts don't like the open, and we all saw the exact same thing and were nearly equally afraid of it, except for you perhaps," Sissy told her with a sidelong glance.  
  
"No, I was frightened too," said Olivia quickly.  
  
"Definitely not a boggart."  
  
"Banshee?" suggested Olivia.  
  
"Wrong color," said Sissy, thinking for a moment. "And ... wouldn't it have screamed?"  
  
"Point taken," she acknowledged.  
  
"Ah, _Dark Creatures of the British Isles_. That might help us along," said Sissy, taking a thin leather-bound tome from the shelf.  
  
"We don't have much to go on though, do we?"  
  
"No, but we have our minds and a few clues. We can hardly expect more in this situation," said Sissy with a shrug.  
  
They selected a few more books on the topic in question before returning to see if Sophia was having any luck only to find her engrossed in the article on dragons, which was quite substantial in that edition of _Fantastic Beasts_.  
  
"Well, I hardly think we saw one of those," said Olivia, pointing to the full-color illustration of a Hungarian Horntail.  
  
"Sorry," said Sophia with a slight smile before resuming her search.  
  
Sissy gave Olivia one of the books they had chosen and opened one herself as they took seats at the table.  
  
"Got one for me?" asked Corinna, joining them.  
  
"And me?" asked Martin, who had come rushing up behind her.  
  
Sissy was quite aware that Martin had no idea what he was asking for, but handed him, and Corinna, a book each nevertheless.  
  
"This should be fun," he said pleasantly, opening his book with a smile.  
  
Sissy noted with distaste that there still appeared to be bits leaves or something in his curly auburn hair.  
  
  
It was nearly an hour later when Sophia looked up from Fantastic Beasts and sighed loudly. It had been a very interesting read as it was originally meant to be an upper level text for fifth or sixth years, which was one of several reasons why the library also had copies on hand, but it had contained no descriptions of beasts that matched what they had seen. That did not especially surprise Sophia as she suspected that the thing was human or nearly human.  
  
Martin looked up from _Dark Creatures of the British Isles_ as Sophia took another book from the stack that Sissy had found for them.  
  
"Any luck?" he asked.  
  
"Not a bit. At this rate I think we might try blindfolding Corinna again and hoping she has better luck," answered Sophia.  
  
Sissy's eyes flashed with indignation as she acknowledged the comment: "Only if you think _another_ cookbook would help."   
  
She was referencing a particularly trying quest to find a lost potions' tome the year before. As Corinna always seemed to know things either before they happened or just out of the blue, they decided that a neat test of her ability would be to blindfold her and have her bring them the book. She returned with a cookbook specializing in the preparation of candied fruits and marmalades.  
  
Turning beet red at the comment from Sissy, Corinna glanced up from her book and said, "I couldn't very well find something that wasn't there."  
  
"I think I've got something," said Olivia, pointing to an illustration in her book on Dark Creatures.  
  
Everything else was forgotten as they all huddled around the book and looked at a picture of a slender being in a long black cape and robes. His skin was very pale, almost chalk white, except for his lips, which were a definite red. As the picture moved, his mouth opened slightly to reveal two pointed fangs. But what cinched it was the eyes: they were a secretive, but shining red or perhaps a light maroon in color.  
  
"A vampire," said Sissy nonchalantly as though in the light of day in the library of Hogwarts the image did not frighten her.  
  
Sophia and Martin shuddered visibly as the picture bared its fangs again.  
  
"But what would one of those be doing here?" asked Corinna thoughtfully.  
  
"They say that in the Forbidden Forest ..." began Olivia.  
  
"But the centaurs ..." objected Sophia, who had made something of a study of the forest dwellers.  
  
"It says that they are clever," said Olivia, pointing toward a line of the caption, but keeping her finger well away from the picture.  
  
"Only as clever as the humans, wizard or muggle, that they once were, unless it's one of the old vampires, from the days of legend and my father said ..." Sissy told them before trailing off as they looked at her.  
  
"What?" asked Martin.  
  
"He said that the old ones were all dead or in hiding deep in Eastern Europe."  
  
"So this is just ... a human who got bitten?" asked Sophia.  
  
"I suppose so, but they can be just as dangerous," said Sissy.  
  
"There aren't many of them ... and they're supposed to be regulated by the Ministry," said Olivia, skimming the article further.  
  
"But we all agree; that was what we saw last night, right?" asked Sophia, taking another look at the picture.  
  
"Yes," said Corinna.  
  
The others merely nodded and sat down again at the table.  
  
"I told my father about what we saw," said Martin after a moment of uncomfortable silence.  
  
"What did he think?" asked Sissy.  
  
"I'm not sure ... He wouldn't say what it was," said Martin with a shrug.  
  
"But he believed you, didn't he?" asked Olivia, closing the book and pushing it toward the center of the table.  
  
Martin thought about that for a moment before deciding that his father had taken him seriously, quite seriously, in fact.  
  
"Yes," Martin nodded confidently.  
  
"Then there isn't anything more that we can do. Perhaps, since it knows that we know about it, it will go back to the forest or something," said Sissy. "It's out of our hands now at any rate."  
  
  
The five of them returned to the Aerie and the common room not long after that, realizing that they still had sufficient time to begin studying before dinner. At the top of the stairs leading to the domain of Ravenclaw house, _Gentleman in His Study_ was penning something at his cluttered write desk with a rather old-fashioned and ornate quill. Martin was about to say the password when Sissy silenced him with a look and a gesture. They all stood there for a moment until the portrait figure glanced over his shoulder and smiled.  
  
"Thank you, my dears," he said to the girls, putting down the quill and turning.  
  
"We didn't want to disturb you," said Sissy coolly.  
  
"Ah, just making a few notes regarding ... well, never you mind," he said with a charming smile. "Password?"  
  
"Alexandria," said Olivia.  
  
"Very good," he nodded before opening for them and going back to his work.  
  
Once inside the common room, Martin was surprised to see how crowded it was. It seemed as though the better half of their house was present. A handful of older students were reading near the windows. Most of the first year boys were playing Gobstones in a well-secluded corner not too far from the hearth. Various students from other years were scattered across the room studying, reading, or talking in quiet clusters. David Clearwater was teaching Geraldine Graves, a third year student, a few of the finer points of chess.  
  
The common room, had Martin realized it, was the center of life within the Aerie where students could spend time with their friends and house mates in both academic and non-academic pursuits. Except during the latest hours of the night and the earliest hours of morning, it was seldom unoccupied and often nearly filled to capacity with students and alive with the soft buzz of conversation.  
  
"Go fetch your books and things and meet us over there," instructed Sissy, pointing to a pair of unoccupied window seats and a nearby armchair.  
  
"Of course," he agreed.  
  
  
Some minutes later Martin found himself situated in the armchair, which was rather comfortable, though its dark blue fabric had seen much wear. While waiting for the return of his friends, who were taking their time, he noticed a portrait of a woman with raven-black hair and blue-green eyes situated just above the hearth. She seemed to be watching everyone in the room, but they took no notice if her. When her gaze fell on Martin, her lips twitched into a slight smile and she raised a delicate eyebrow before turning her attention else where.  
  
"I see that you've been noticed by Rowena," said Corinna, sitting down on the nearest window seat and putting her books, Charms' and Potions' texts, down next to her.  
  
Martin started slightly as he had not heard her approaching.  
  
"Er, Rowena?" he asked.  
  
"Ravenclaw," she said, brushing her messy brown hair from her face. "She was one of the Founders of Hogwarts."  
  
"Like Godric Gryffindor?"  
  
"Yes, exactly," chuckled Corinna.  
  
"My parents ..."  
  
"I understand. You probably know all sorts of stuff about him, but nothing about the other Founders," she said.  
  
"I know that Salazar Slytherin was ... evil."  
  
"Perhaps," Corinna nodded judiciously, "but I wouldn't say that in front of any of the Slytherins nor in front of Sissy. Her mother was in that house, and she wouldn't be especially pleased to hear them badmouthed."  
  
"Thanks for the warning," said Martin, looking at the portrait again.  
  
"They say that Ravenclaw and Slytherin were ... in love when he left the school," commented Corinna. "But she stayed behind because she believed in the school and in the hopes and dreams of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."  
  
"Such a sad story," commented Sissy from behind them. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "But that's why they so many of us fall in love with Slytherins. The fanciful notion of their love remaining in the stones of the castle, long after they parted and eventually went to dust," she said.  
  
"You're both going to bore the poor boy with this lovey-dovey nonsense," announced Olivia, who sat down on the empty window seat while Sissy sat next to Corinna and Sophia plopped down on the rug.  
  
"Er, I don't mind. I really don't know very much about the history of the school," Martin admitted, secretly hoping that Corinna would tell him more.  
  
Unfortunately, she had already opened her Charms' text and was reading the pages that Professor Flitwick had assigned them. Sissy was doing the same while Olivia had her history balanced on one knee and Sophia was beginning to pore over her potions' homework. Martin simply sighed to himself and pulled his Charms' book from his satchel, wondering if there were a book on the history on the school he might read in his spare time. If he had any, that is. He glanced at Corinna again and wondered how on earth she would manage classes and Quidditch.  
  
"I would love to play ... eventually. But I don't know if I could manage it. Mum did it all right, but ... could I possibly follow in her footsteps?" he wondered as he gazed down at his textbook again. Martin didn't have an answer to that.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: I can't figure out why no one reviewed the last chapter. Rowena is described as having dark hair because that is how she is most often portrayed in fanon.  
  
  



	6. Defense against the dark arts

Chapter Six  
  
Defense against the dark arts  
  
  
  
The next day at breakfast the girls all sighed as they looked over their schedules again: nothing like Herbology - and Professor Sprout - to start the day off. Martin, on the other hand, simply looked from the word _Potions_ on his schedule to the dour-looking professor that taught it. This did not seem to bode well.  
  
"At least we get a bit of relief after that," commented Sissy with a slight smirk.  
  
"If you call Defense Against the Dark Arts relief ..." rebutted Olivia, who liked other subjects much better than defense. It simply wasn't her best subject.  
  
Martin noted that he did not have defense class until later that afternoon ... right after transfigurations. He wasn't sure what that was going to be like ... having his father for a professor. It was sure to be awkward, but a little terrifying as well. He was good with transfigurations, although he would be loath to admit that his mum and his tutors had allowed him to practice a few basic ones and to read literature on the subject. His mother excelled in that area of magic and truly loved teaching what she knew of it to her son. It was one of his favorite things that they had shared. But his father? Martin winced internally. His father was probably only slightly aware of his interest in transfigurations.  
  
Of course, before then he would need to get through the potions class and history of magic, which was rumored to be insanely boring, thanks to its professor. That was a shame, in his opinion, because he enjoyed history, magical and muggle alike, almost as much as transfigurations, and to have a dull professor in the subject seemed to be quite a loss.  
  
"Who thinks up these schedules? And what did we ever do to them?" asked Olivia crossly, contemplating the horror that was Herbology.  
  
"Can't say," mused Corinna, who had already put her schedule away.  
  
"Oh, it's fine for you! You _like_ Herbology!" accused Olivia.  
  
"Perhaps a bit, but I get good marks and Professor Sprout seems to like me," she shrugged. Both statements were true, but all of the girls, except perhaps Sissy, got along well enough with Sprout, despite the fact that she was the head of Hufflepuff house.  
  
"Any complaints, Martin?" asked Sophia, who was taking everything in stride as always.  
  
"Not really," he shrugged, turning his full attention to his breakfast.  
  
  
More than an hour later the quartet walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after having Herbology with their Hufflepuff year mates. Sissy felt a bit grimy after handling plant specimens and so forth, but nothing could take the edge off her excitement as she entered the classroom.   
  
Professor Knowles, an almost middle-aged wizard with dark brown hair that hung nearly to his waist and a little pair of spectacles that constantly slid down his long nose, was shuffling through some papers, possibly his plans for the lesson, at his desk while the students all found seats. Sissy glanced around and noted that they appeared to be having their defense lessons alone. The previous year they had been thrown together with the rowdy Gryffindors of their year, much to her then displeasure.  
  
"Good morning, class, have you your text books?" Professor Knowles asked after checking an odd sort of watch that he kept in the pocket of his robes.  
  
Sissy, rather familiar with his teaching style, had already removed the book _Simple Defensive Spells, volume IV_ from her satchel. She had read most of it already either on the train to Hogwarts or in her spare time since then and had found it rather wanting or at least too simplistic for anyone with a good grasp of the basic subject. Nevertheless, she appreciated the fact that Knowles was listed among the book's many editors.  
  
"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-eight," he instructed them. "Today we will be discussing simple disarming spells and how to block them."  
  
Sissy raised her eyebrows slightly at that. Why was he starting the term off with something so, relatively speaking, advanced?  
  
"I imagine that none of you have read this material yet, therefore you have the next twenty minutes to familiarize yourselves with the first two disarming spells and the preferred method of blocking them, all of which are found on the page in front of you," he told them.  
  
Sissy glanced at her friends and noted that they too seemed puzzled, but none of them wasted any time before they began following instructions. She glanced down at the materials and chose to peruse the text again, just to be safe, as there could be no doubt that Knowles would have them try out the spells and techniques before the lesson ended. Thankfully, she already knew that her partner would be Corinna, just as Sophia and Olivia would choose each other. Glancing at the four boys in her year, all of whom were reading the text, she was privately quite glad that she wouldn't have to cross wands with them. One of them had dueled with a Slytherin second year the previous term ... and won. The other three were unholy terrors with wands, not intentionally, of course.  
  
"Has everyone finished?" asked Knowles some time later, leaving his desk and removing his wand from his sleeve.   
  
There were nods and murmured replies in the affirmative as he walked down the row between the desks and tables that form two columns on either side of the room. He paused next to where Sissy sat in an aisle seat. She looked up at him.   
  
"I would like two students to help me demonstrate the techniques before we begin," he said with a smile tugging at his lips, momentarily marring his serious expression.   
  
Sissy felt butterflies in her stomach at the notion that she might be chosen to assist with such a demonstration. She quelled them immediately and looked the professor in the eye.  
  
"Miss Howard, would you care to volunteer?" he questioned.  
  
No one knew into which house Cyrus Knowles had been sorted during his time at school, but Sissy rather suspected that it might be Slytherin, or else he was a Ravenclaw with a very amusing sense of humor.  
  
"Of course, sir," she replied, leaving her seat and keeping her tone carefully even.  
  
Turning toward the row where the young men in the class were sitting, he pointed to Li Chang, the young wizard who had won the duel the year before.  
  
"Mister Chang?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, sir," Chang answered, wiping his palms on his robes before standing. He looked rather grim, but maybe a little nervous too. Or was that wishful thinking on Sissy's part?  
  
She frowned. Her marks in defense had been excellent the year before. But Chang had proved the scope of his practical knowledge in that duel. None of the professors, as far as Sissy knew, had witnessed it, but word always got around.  
  
Knowles motioned for them to stand at either end of the aisle, and as they took their places Sissy noticed the encouraging looks her friends were giving her and felt better for it.  
  
"This is _not_ a duel. One of you will try to disarm your opponent. The other will defend with a blocking technique. Any other conduct will result in a loss of house points, the number of which is at present undecided," Knowles warned them, moving out of the way.  
  
Sissy knew her chances weren't bad. She would have put them at fifty-fifty in disarming Chang and the same at retaining her own wand.  
  
"Miss Howard, you will defend first," announced Knowles. "On my mark, please," he said to Chang, who had his wand ready.  
  
Sissy raised her wand and tensed. The look of concentration in the other student's eyes was intense. A hundred things passed through her mind as she waited for the signal and for Chang's disarming spell. And she knew that what she had read would only help her so much. She longed for practical experience, for anything that would make this easier or less nerve-wracking.  
  
"Now!" said Knowles in a measured voice.  
  
"_Exarmo_!" cried Chang with a wave of his wand.  
  
The spell he had chosen was the most basic of those listed in the text they had just finished reading, but that did not mean that it wasn't a powerful spell too. It wasn't subtle nor particularly elegant either, but in that instant neither of those things mattered.  
  
Sissy was aware only for a fraction of a second that a spell was whizzing toward her before it hit her full force, knocking her wand into the air and her flat on her back.   
  
The breath was nearly knocked out of her, but she managed to sit up with a stifled sort of groan. She had not even had the chance to react, much less _attempt_ to block the spell.  
  
"Well, I hope neither of you plan to play for your house's Quidditch team," said Knowles dryly as he returned Sissy's wand to her and helped her to her feet with a look of the utmost displeasure. "Your reflexes, Miss Howard, are lacking in the extreme, and you, Mister Chang, should work on catching the wand once it has left your opponent's hand," he continued.  
  
Chang, who fancied himself as having a shot at the position of Chaser, colored at Knowles' comments while Sissy merely tried to recover her breath.  
  
"Now, Miss Howard, it is your turn to disarm Mister Chang," said the professor, stepping out of the way again.  
  
"Yes, sir," she croaked, willing her eyes not to water.  
  
"On my mark."  
  
Sissy steeled herself and raised her wand. Her opponent, who was, like most of the boys of her year, nearly a foot shorter than her, looked very determined as he brought his wand to ready. She took a deep breath and waited for their instructor's signal.  
  
"Now!"  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!" she spoke as loudly as she could.  
  
Sissy felt a thrill of delight as Chang's want flew from his hand, extracting a grimace of mixed pain and chagrin. She caught it deftly in her free hand.  
  
"Well done, Miss Howard," commented Knowles, "and a valiant effort from you as well, Mister Chang."  
  
Chang shook his smarting hand out before accepting the return of his wand, handle first, from Sissy, who politely refrained from smirking, although it required effort from every fiber of her being not to do so.  
  
"Thank you, sir," they both told him before returning to their seats.  
  
"That was brilliant," whispered Olivia with a grin as Sissy sat down.  
  
"What? Getting knocked on my arse by a boy?" she questioned.  
  
"I think she means the other part," said Sophia quickly.  
  
Professor Knowles, who was leaning on his desk, cleared his throat to get everyone's attention before speaking again.  
  
"I have come to the conclusion that we will spend our class time this week and perhaps the next studying blocking techniques. When both the student with the highest marks and the student with the most ... practical experience, fail to keep their wands in the face of a disarming spell, that is the only conclusion I may draw," he told them, giving both participants in the demonstration veiled compliments, which did not go unnoticed in Sissy's case. "Now, please find a partner for the rest of the class period ..."  
  
  
All the students left class wincing that morning. Sissy had finally managed to block a disarming spell decently, as had Olivia, but Knowles was right: her reflexes just weren't as fast as those of some of her peers. She had never had ambitions to play Quidditch as it was too dangerous and too messy, but there was a difference between lack of desire and lack of ability. It was disappointing to realize that she had the latter as well as the former.  
  
"Can you manage a Cooling Charm?" Sophia asked as they left their desks and started to leave class. She was massaging her aching wand hand which had been subjected to one too many wrenching disarming spells.  
  
"That bad?" asked Sissy, who had fully recovered from her ordeal.  
  
"You had better believe it," said Sophia.  
  
"I second that," mumbled Corinna, who was almost a disaster a defense.  
  
Before Sissy could comment, someone called her from behind: "Hey, Howard!"  
  
She turned to see Li Chang.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You did well in there," he said, nodding toward the classroom behind them.  
  
"Thank you," answered Sissy, surprised by the compliment. "You too."  
  
Chang smiled and said, "But you used a more complicated spell and managed to catch my wand."  
  
"And you caught me off guard," she admitted.  
  
"I'm quick, but not good. Not yet at least," he said.  
  
"You beat that Slytherin last year," she reminded him.  
  
"That was luck," he said with a sheepish look.  
  
"That isn't what I've heard nor what Knowles seems to have heard either," she pointed out to him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Well, you know ... rumors," he shrugged with a half-smile. "See you around?"  
  
"Certainly," she nodded as he walked past to rejoin his friends.  
  
"I think you have an admirer," Olivia teased with an enormous grin.  
  
"I do not," said Sissy, drawing herself up to her full height. "But he does seem ... nicer than last year."  
  
"Perhaps," chuckled Sophia. "Boys change so quickly."  
  
"Don't they." agreed Olivia.  
  
"Lunch?" Corinna reminded them impatiently as they lingered near the doorway of the classroom.  
  
  
"That was awfully difficult for our first day of class, wasn't it?" Sophia asked the others as they found seats at their house table in the crowded Great Hall. The buzz of conversation around them seemed louder than usual.  
  
As they had walked into the hall, she had spotted Martin, who was seated with his year mates at the far end of the table. He appeared to be having an animated conversation with ... Nathan something-or-other. Sophia smiled and gingerly picked up her glass of pumpkin juice with her still aching hand, using the glass to cool and soothe it.  
  
"I don't think Knowles planned the lesson to be like that ..." mused Corinna, examining the contents of her sandwich.  
  
Sissy looked mildly surprised, wondering if Corinna was having one of her flashes of intuition, and asked, "What makes you say that?"  
  
"You didn't see the look on his face when you and Chang were giving that demonstration," said Sophia with a slow nod.  
  
"Or when you ... well, wound up on the floor," added Olivia with a wince.  
  
"Oh?" questioned Sissy.  
  
"I think he was worried that one or both of you would get hurt," said Sophia seriously.   
  
The look that had crossed Knowles' face when Sissy hit the floor should have been one of disappointment or annoyance in keeping with his character, but instead he seemed relieved that more serious harm had not been done. Sophia could have sworn that much of the lesson had made him anxious. Then again, Knowles was nothing if not unpredictable.  
  
"He shouldn't have been," said Sissy. "I would never have intentionally injured one of them, and they would have at least _tried_ to do the same for me," she added with a look of mild distaste.  
  
Sophia laughed and said, "Those other fellows are disasters compared to Chang."  
  
"Not that we would have been much better," said Corinna glumly.  
  
Sissy raised an eyebrow and said, "Then I guess he made ... adequate choices."   
  
That made perfect sense now. He had known from her academic record and from the fact that Chang's other 'opponent' had not gone to the hospital wing that they would be the least likely to injure one another. She felt a bit flattered.  
  
"But it still doesn't answer the question of 'why'. Why did he have us do that if he was so concerned," said Olivia.  
  
"Maybe it was because of ... _it_," said Corinna in a low voice.  
  
"How so?" asked Sissy, knowing that she was referring to the vampire.  
  
"I think they want us to be able to defend ourselves ..." she said, turning and looking up at the head table where Armando Dippet and Cyrus Knowles were having a very quiet conversation. The others turned as well, looking on curiously and wishing that they knew for certain ...  
  
"Should we be worried or happy?" asked Olivia.  
  
"Both, I should think," replied Sissy. "They appear to be taking the threat seriously -- unless we're all over reacting and imagining things -- but that also means that there is a serious threat," she added.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: Opinions on Professor Knowles would be very helpful.  
  
Gkey: She certainly is, but she's smart too. I wish I could go back and write her Sorting. Thank you for the review!  
  
silversea: I know how it can be sometimes (busy, busy). Thanks for reviewing this chapter!  
  
  



	7. An unexpected student

Chapter Seven  
  
An unexpected student  
  
  
  
The final class of the day for the girls was Transfigurations with Professor Dumbledore. But when they walked into the third floor classroom, they were in for a surprise. Martin was there, sitting at a table on the side of the room that the Ravenclaw students had chosen -- opposite the Gryffindors, with whom they would be having class. The quartet all exchanged puzzled looks and joined Martin at the table.  
  
"I think you're in the wrong class," said Olivia in a low voice.  
  
"I'm not," said Martin, blushing and giving her his schedule.  
  
"How in Merlin's name did this happen?" asked Sophia as she looked over her friend's shoulder to verify that Martin was indeed scheduled for Transfigurations. She was certain that there had been a mix up or an outright mistake.  
  
"Mum ... she sent a letter to the headmaster ... explaining that ... that I'm good at this," he explained awkwardly. "I didn't know. Father just told me," he added, glancing toward the front of the room where Professor Dumbledore sat reading behind his desk, which was piled high with what appeared to be ... leaves and twigs?  
  
"Really?" asked Sissy. "Just how good are you?"  
  
"Er, well, I was only allowed to do a little real magic, because of the restrictions, you know, but the theoretical stuff ... out of books ... mum says that I've a fine head for it," said Martin, blushing furiously.  
  
"We've embarrassed him," said Sophia with a slight, but kindly smile.  
  
Olivia gave his shoulder a playful punch and said, "He'll get over it."  
  
And with that, the last of the students took their seats and Professor Dumbledore began class.  
  
"This year you will be learning more advanced transfigurations involving changing living or organic objects into inanimate ones, and vice versa," he explained, taking a small twig from his desk and holding it in his hand. "For this lesson we will be turning a twig into tie pin. Observe ..."  
  
With a quickly spoken incantation, the twig changed into a silver tie pin with a red stone. Dumbledore was, of course, showing off a bit as he did not expect his students to transfigure a simple piece of garden debris into anything nearly so ornate. He held the pin out for them to see before changing it back again.  
  
"Please come up and select a twig. The leaves are for later, should we have time. You may work in pairs and make use of your textbooks," he announced.  
  
As the students scurried to the front to collect their supplies, Dumbledore made a quick count and noted that there was an odd number of students.  
  
"And there may be one group of three," he amended.  
  
"You're with us then," said Olivia, pointing to Sophia and herself as they picked up their materials from the table.  
  
"All right," he agreed without hesitation. More than anything he didn't want to be the only one working alone.  
  
He didn't happen to catch the vaguely annoyed look on Sissy's face. She had wanted to ask Martin to pair up with Corinna and herself. Corinna was quite good at transfigurations, but it never hurt to have an extra head to solve a problem, especially if Martin were some sort of prodigy. And, though Sissy would hardly admit it, she did enjoy his company and found him to be a potentially welcome addition to their little troupe.  
  
Back at their places Olivia and Sophia both immediately removed their books from their satchels and began thumbing through them for the section of transforming organic matter into inorganic objects. Martin watched them for a moment before posing a question:  
  
"Why not give it a go first?"  
  
They both looked up at him, watching him toy with his wand, before Sophia answered, "Because we might accidentally make it explode or something, and I don't fancy asking for another twig."  
  
"Oh," he commented, weighing the consequences before fetching his own copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_.  
  
The information on the topic, which recommended an assortment of practice transfigurations ranging from what they were doing to vastly complicated ones, was rather fascinating, but nothing, Martin decided, could beat actually attempting the actual transfiguration.  
  
"Should we stand back?" asked Olivia in an amused voice as Martin closed his book.  
  
He knew that she was only teasing and just shrugged, "You never know ..."  
  
Sophia chuckled softly and said, "Just remember to concentrate, Martin."  
  
He nodded and spoke the incantation, "_Ramusverto_," with a wave of his wand.  
  
Martin frowned. Nothing had happened. He lifted the twig to examine it, feeling quite puzzled.  
  
"Well?" asked Olivia impatiently.  
  
"It's still a twig," he said, showing it to her.  
  
"Were you concentrating?" asked Sophia.  
  
"Yes," he insisted.  
  
As he returned the twig to the table in front of him with a sigh, Corinna, who wasn't very far away announced, "I've done it!"  
  
Martin turned and saw her hold a very plain and simple tie pin up to the light. It still looked slightly brown, but she managed the transfiguration. About that there was no doubt.  
  
"Very good," Sophia congratulated her with a smile.  
  
"I'll take a turn at it now," said Olivia, who was a decent student in the subject, but certainly not as good as Corinna.  
  
She cast the spell and the twig changed ... into a copper-colored half-twig, half pin. She stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted sound at the mutant object.  
  
"So much for that!" she said.  
  
Sophia picked it up and examined it carefully.  
  
"Well, it looks sort of ... modern," she said, trying to find something nice to say about the result of Olivia's spell.  
  
"Oh, do stop it, Sophia! It's a monstrosity. Let me change it back," sighed Olivia in frustration before doing just that.  
  
Sophia's attempt met with strikingly similar results as she was apparently still thinking about her friend's failed transfiguration.  
  
"Oh, your turn again, Martin," Sophia told the young wizard, who was reading over the material with renewed interest as he watched their attempts out of the corner of his eye.  
  
He wasn't envious exactly, but he wished that something had happened on his first try. Maybe, he thought, it was just nerves. He closed the tome and picked up his wand again.  
  
Just as he lifted his wand to perform the spell, Martin became conscious of a towering figure standing just to his left. He glanced up to see his father watching him carefully. The professor had been walking around the classroom, measuring the success his pupils were having at the task. Now it was finally Martin's turn.  
  
"_Ramusverto_!" he spoke carefully, feeling as though all the blood in his body was rushing into his cheeks and ears as he blushed.  
  
Magic can be performed in a variety of circumstances to either good or bad results. And under the pressure to perform that Martin felt as he tried desperately to change the twig into a tie pin, the result was not an especially good one. The twig changed into a pin ... just prior to melting into a tiny puddle of metallic goo on the desk. Martin winced and lowered his wand.  
  
"You are trying too hard, Mister Dumbledore," said the professor with twinkling eyes. It was all he could do not to laugh at Martin. The temptation would not have been so great if the young wizard in question was not his own son. But looking at Martin, who was still staring blankly at the goo, it was very difficult to maintain his composure. "I must admit. I have never seen that happen before," he added in an even voice.  
  
Sophia and Olivia were both attempting to look like serious students, but grins were tugging at the corners of their mouths.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor," said Martin.  
  
"No matter," said Dumbledore, waving his wand and restoring the twig. "Try taking a deep breath next time," he suggested before walking to the next table.  
  
Olivia punched his shoulder encouragingly and said, "That was blinking fantastic. I've never seen anything melt like that either."  
  
"I was ... nervous," Martin admitted quietly, poking the twig with his wand.  
  
"Who wouldn't be? Cripes! If my dad was here ... I'd hate to see what would happen," said Olivia.  
  
Martin managed a bit of a smile and said, "Thanks."  
  
  
That was the last class of the day for the second years, who had a 'study break' thereafter, but Martin, who never managed to transfigure a decent tie pin, trudged onward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Sissy promised he would enjoy. He took a bit of comfort in that.  
  
He was beginning to like the girls quite a bit, more than any of the students in his own year, who seemed a bit aloof, possibly because his father was a professor, not to mention famous. That had never been particularly hard on Martin, that people knew and respected his father, and to a lesser degree his mother. She had not slain the infamous Dark Wizard Grindelwald and ended the war, after all, but she was respected for her work as an Auror.   
  
But at Hogwarts, his father's fame actually seemed to bother him a bit. Every conversation he had with the boys in his year eventually turned into questions about his father. They wanted to hear war stories. They wanted to hear about the great professor's adventures. They wanted to know about dragon blood and alchemy. They didn't want to hear about him, about Martin Dumbledore, at all.  
  
Of course, he didn't have the answers they wanted. His father never told _him_ how he won the duel with the worst Dark Wizard of the age. Nor any of the other stuff. They talked about what Martin considered to be traditional father-son things, like Quidditch and what Martin wanted to be when he grew up or what kind of books they both liked. Not about that horrible war, which had ended eleven long years before, or about any of those other things.  
  
It made Martin more than a bit uncomfortable. His year mates seemed so insistent that he tell them things. Then when he couldn't, they were disappointed and maybe even a little upset. He hoped they would stop asking and learn to accept him for who he was, not because his father was famous.  
  
But at least he had the girls. They had asked a few questions too, but Martin supposed that in their place he would be a bit curious. And he didn't mind so much since they also seemed interested in being his friends as well, and that was all that he could ask for.  
  
  
After classes ended for the four young witches, they went their separate ways for a while. Sissy went to the library with the intention of pouring over texts on dueling techniques and associated charms. Corinna retired to their dormitory to read in solitude and perhaps work on her broom, which certainly could use it. Olivia lingered in the common room with the intention of studying her transfigurations' text as she was not at all pleased with her classroom performance, and she wanted to have tips to offer to Martin, who had left class in similar spirits.   
  
But while the others lingered indoors, Sophia left the castle and went out to read by the lake, one of her favorite places, while the weather was still warm and fair and she could enjoy spending time there. It was rather cool for the first week of September, but Sophia didn't mind that. The peacefulness and the almost delicious solitude made it well worth it. Sophia was by nature perhaps a bit more solitary than her friends, though the other members of the quartet were very dear to her. Her feelings for them did not, however, negate her need for a few hours to herself, away from the hurried life within the castle in general and the Aerie in particular.  
  
She smiled to herself as she opened her potions' textbook to prepare for the next day's class. It was one of her favorite classes, not to mention one in which she received very high marks, higher than even the Slytherins of her year, and that was saying something. Of all the types of magic they studied from charms to transfigurations, Sophia considered potions to be one of the most logical. One simply needed to learn the properties of the ingredients, the basic techniques of brewing, and how to follow instructions to become proficient at it. But try telling that to the young Lions they had shared a classroom with during the previous term, or to Sissy and Corinna for that matter.  
  
"Diligent as ever, I see," said a low voice from just behind her.  
  
Sophia started, dropping her book, and turned to see Professor Krohn towering above her. Her surprise seemed to amuse the potions' master.  
  
"Professor ..." she stammered, uncharacteristically tongue-tied, "I didn't hear you."  
  
"I suppose not," he said with a slightly smirking half-smile that made his heavy, but once handsome features more pleasant. "I often come here myself. There are usually fewer students under foot," Krohn commented, looking out at the lake.  
  
Picking up her book, Sophia scrambled hurriedly to her feet, and said, "I ... I'll go immediately." She had seen Krohn's wrath unleashed upon her Gryffindor year mates often enough to know that she would do nearly anything not to be on the receiving end of it.  
  
Krohn held up a hand and said, "I wasn't ordering you off. I was simply making a statement. If sitting out here with your book is how you manage to perform so adequately in my class, then by all means, stay."  
  
Sophia paused and frowned. It wasn't like him to give compliments, not even ones so meager as that.  
  
"Actually, sir, I think it does help ... because it's so quiet here," she said timidly, taking a seat on the grass again.  
  
Krohn clasped his arms behind his back and nodded thoughtfully as he gazed out over the water and toward the high hills and mountains that surrounded the school. Something about that view reminded him of the home he had left in Germany so many years ago, just before the muggle war and wizarding one. He had never dared to go back. He wasn't sure if he could face the tremendous changes that had occurred since then.  
  
Sophia watched him for a moment before returning her attention to her book. When she looked up again, Krohn was gone, returned to his dungeons and his duties.  
  
  
"Olivia? Are you busy at the moment?" asked Corinna, watching her friend tapping her quill against an open text book, which she seemed to be staring at, but not actually reading.  
  
Olivia looked up and grinned, offering her a seat on the couch, which she still had all to herself, although students were beginning to trickle in slowly from class.  
  
"Not too busy," she said.  
  
"It's about Quidditch ..." said Corinna with a wince. She glanced meaningfully toward the stairs to their dormitory.  
  
"Ah, I see," said Olivia, gathering up her things and following Corinna back to their room.  
  
As they walked into the dormitory, Olivia's cat leapt down from the windowsill where he had been sunning himself and regarded his owner curiously. Olivia tossed her things onto her bed and scooped up the small cat with a chuckle.   
  
Corinna glimpsed Sukie peering out from beneath her owner's bed. Sissy's owl, she imagined, was sleeping in the Owlery and would come in through the window sometime after dark. She wished that she had a familiar.  
  
"You're already worried about the first game, aren't you?" asked Olivia. "You shouldn't be," she added, "since it isn't until mid-October sometime. I haven't even checked the calendar yet."  
  
"No, that isn't it," said Corinna, "but I am a bit nervous about practice on Monday."  
  
"So Ambrose came up with a schedule?"  
  
"A grueling one," said Corinna with a soft sigh, thinking of all those cold and early mornings and possibly late suppers she had to look forward to. "But that isn't it either."  
  
Olivia gave her a questioning look.  
  
"I mentioned to Ambrose that you want to be a Beater next term. He suggested that you might train with the team in the spring. I thought I should let you know before he mentioned it. And it slipped my mind yesterday," explained Corinna.  
  
Olivia grinned and said, "Thanks for putting in a good word for me, Corinna! I don't know what I would do without you."  
  
"Break some noses at try-outs?" she suggested with a smile.  
  
"I can still do that ... maybe," chuckled Olivia, who was rather brutal with a Quidditch bat. They had played a friendly match with some Gryffindors during the Easter holidays the year before and Olivia had 'accidentally' broken a second year's nose with a Bludger.  
  
"Ambrose seemed rather relieved that I knew someone interested, but he will have a lot of positions to fill after graduation," said Corinna.  
  
"Two Beaters, with one reserve to step up, possibly a Chaser, and, unfortunately, the Seeker," said Olivia, who kept up with such things.  
  
Ambrose was only a fifth year, but he had received the captaincy despite that because the graduating players didn't want to take the honor from David Clearwater, who was one of their own, and knew that a younger captain could keep the team together better after they had gone. He had also been on the team for three full terms and knew the game and players very well.  
  
"So if we don't win this year ..." said Corinna.  
  
"Don't say that! Just because the team will be younger next year, doesn't mean that it won't be better too," objected Olivia.  
  
"Well, at least we'll have you."  
  
"Us," she corrected with a grin. "Although, we'll be stuck listening to Ambrose for years to come," she added, wrinkling her nose.  
  
"He might make a decent captain. You never know ..." said Corinna, but privately she wondered if Olivia might be right about Ignatius Ambrose.  
  


* * *

A/N: Not a lot of plot development, but trust me, the character development and everything is necessary.  
  
  
silversea: Thank for you reviewing!  
  
  



	8. First practice

Chapter Eight  
  
First practice  
  
  
  
The rest of the week passed in a rather pleasant flurry of classes as they adjusted to their schedules and found time for both studying and all of the other things they enjoyed from spending time in the library to sitting up late in the common room, which was done on Friday and Saturday nights as Corinna's practice schedule did not begin until the following week.  
  
The girls continued to include Martin in most of what they did, including their study sessions as he was showing precious little improvement in Transfigurations and they believed that it might help him. He was also making little headway with the students of his own year, all of whom had come to regard him rather coolly. But with Olivia and Corinna to cheer him up -- they were especially good at that sort of thing -- it didn't bother him as much as it otherwise would have.  
  
Of course, Martin had imagined his first year at Hogwarts as being very different than staying up late with four girls, all of whom he considered to be much smarter than himself, but that hardly seemed to matter either. With them, he belonged, and that was something he had always wanted, but he had never had before.  
  
  
Following double Potions, which seemed excruciatingly long to Corinna, she returned to the dormitory to get her broom and change into more comfortable clothes, suitable to practicing Quidditch in as she had not be been issued Quidditch robes yet.   
  
Sophia and Olivia had adjourned to the library to work on the potions' essay that had been assigned, but Sissy chose to accompany Corinna back to the dormitory. Hardly the most sensitive of the girls, Sissy could tell nevertheless that Corinna was anxious about the practice. It had, given her less than stellar performance in Charms, been on her mind all day.  
  
"Tie your hair back," suggested, or ordered, Sissy, who was lounging on her bed.  
  
"It won't stay," said Corinna whose hair was a constant mess no matter what she did.  
  
"Pin it then."  
  
"Won't stay," she said in a sing-song voice, tying her boots and blowing a few stray locks of disheveled brown hair out of her face.  
  
"You'll regret it," Sissy warned her, tossing her own immaculate blond hair over her shoulder with a little smirk.  
  
"I regret everything sooner or later, Sissy," Corinna reminded her.  
  
"Of course you do," she replied, rolling her eyes.  
  
Taking her broom from beneath her bed and checking the time, Corinna asked, "Do you want to come along and watch?"  
  
"No thanks," said Sissy, glancing outside, "it looks as though it might rain."  
  
"Not until later," Corinna assured her.  
  
"You should have asked Olivia. She loves the game. You know how I feel about it. I enjoy the matches, but I know there's more to life," said Sissy.  
  
"Don't let her catch you saying that," Corinna chuckled.  
  
"I won't," said Sissy, "but do be careful out there. Those boys will probably give you a very hard time," she cautioned her, reminding Corinna that there were only two girls on the team besides her: a Beater and a Chaser.  
  
"Right ..." said Corinna before she left.  
  
  
The team was already assembled in the locker room when Corinna arrived at exactly four o'clock. She blushed as they all looked at her curiously. They had a very senior team compared to the other houses, she realized as though for the first time as four seventh years, three fourth years, and Ambrose looked at her. She didn't really know any of them. Certainly she knew their names and positions, but she didn't know _them_.  
  
"This is Bellew, everyone. Our new Keeper," said Ambrose by way of an introduction. He seemed rather amused as she cautiously walked into the locker room.  
  
"Hello," she managed.  
  
Despite the fact that they were all very obviously still sizing her up, they returned the shy greeting.  
  
One of the Chasers, fourth year Alec Sexton, left the bench where he had been lacing up his boots and approached her.  
  
"What model you got there?" he asked, reaching for her broom.  
  
Relinquishing it only reluctantly, she said, "Tinderblast."  
  
"Your father's?" Sexton questioned.   
  
She could see the laughter in his eyes as he returned the older model broom to her, and to Corinna's credit, she tried not to blush at the remark.  
  
"No, it's mine," she answered, inclining her chin slightly.  
  
"Give her a break," said Edith Savage, twirling her bat in her hands, "she probably bought it on short notice."  
  
Sexton tossed his head with a sneer and grabbed an almost-new Shooting Star propped near the door.  
  
"I'll be on the pitch when you _girls_ want to join me," he said over his shoulder on his way out.  
  
"Don't mind him," said Ambrose. "He's still peeved about David being off the team. He'll cool off sooner or later."  
  
"Right ..." said Corinna. She had the distinct feeling that he wouldn't, that it was personal somehow, even though she had only just met him.  
  
"We're wasting daylight here," said Helen Parker, another Chaser, who had the practice Quaffle tucked under her arm.  
  
"We'll have proper robes and all for you sometime within the next week or so," Ambrose informed Corinna, plucking at his own blue and bronze attire. "Let's go," he said to the rest of the team, including the reserve Beater and Chaser who were dutifully attending the first practice.  
  
  
The sky was overcast that day, and it was rather muggy out of doors. So it wasn't exactly the ideal weather for Quidditch, but this was an all-weather sport, which meant that even on days when the conditions were unpleasant, the team still had to practice. A warm breeze blew over the pitch as Corinna followed the team onto the field, which was covered with ankle-deep grass. Overhead Sexton was flying in speedy circles around the pitch until Ambrose called him down again to join them.  
  
"I'm supposing all of you practiced _every day_ over the summer like Clearwater wanted ..." Ambrose began, looking at his players. More than a few of them ducked their heads guiltily. "So this afternoon shouldn't be much of a hardship for our returning players." He looked at Corinna for a moment. "Let's see what we've got to work with this season. Mount your broomsticks and take positions," he ordered.  
  
The reserve players, when they weren't needed on the field for practice, had their uses. When it was time, they released the Bludger and the Snitch for the team before returning to the sidelines to observe the game and wait on the captain to call them.  
  
Corinna maneuvered the slightly uncooperative broom in front of the center hoop at the end of the field Ambrose indicated for her and hovered there, watching the other players, mainly the Chasers. The team had looked spectacular last year, but Gryffindor had still been better. There were butterflies in her stomach as she wondered whether they might have a chance against them this year. Maybe this would be their year ...  
  
Then something hurtled toward her head narrowly missing her.  
  
"Hey! Pay attention, Bellew!" yelled Sexton, who had hurled the Quaffle at her.  
  
She nodded mutely and tried to focus as she watched the Chasers methodically tossing the ball back and forth in prearranged patterns. They were good. Every now and again they would chuck the Quaffle toward the goals, and Corinna would do her best to defend them. Of course, against three Chasers with between two and four years of experience under their belts, she hardly stood a chance, especially on a slower broom that drifted to the left far more than she had realized.  
  
She hardly had time to spare the Beaters a glance as they whacked the Bludger to and fro with the same precision their teammates possessed nor to follow the flight of the team's veteran Seeker, seventh year Manfred North, but from what she could see, they would be losing several excellent players at the end of term in the spring.  
  
The sky was turning a golden color as the sun set behind the clouds and Ambrose called them down to the pitch again. They were all sweaty and beginning to flag after the grueling session, but their captain seemed pleased. North had caught and subsequently re-released the Snitch five times since practice began and snatched it out of the air again just in time to join the meeting. Ambrose gave the Beaters a moment to round up the Bludger while North and Sexton returned the other balls to the equipment case.  
  
"Not bad, all around," he told them, "for a start o' the year practice. We need to tighten up our formations a bit." He was referring to the Chasers. "We have plenty of time to shape up before our first game, but it is against Slytherin, so we can't afford to get complacent."  
  
"And our Keeper? What about her?" asked Sexton, leaning on his broom.  
  
Ambrose scratched his head and looked as though he was struggling to find something diplomatic to say as he turned toward Corinna, who was starving and exhausted, but trying to look otherwise.  
  
"Er, Bellew, you and I should have a talk," he said.  
  
"All right," she said quietly.  
  
"The rest of you can hit the showers and go grab a bite to eat," he told them, "but be ready for more of this tomorrow." He had to yell the last few words as they had needed no further encouragement to leave the pitch.  
  
Corinna shuffled her feet as she watched the other players go.  
  
"You aren't bad, Bellew," he said, "but you just don't have the experience that we do."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And your broom is out of date. You might be better off on a school broom," Ambrose recommended, nodding toward the shed where the school brooms, Swiftsticks, were stored. They had been purchased only a few years earlier; not quite state-of-the-art, but a step up from the Tinderblast nonetheless.  
  
"This is my first broom, you know," she said, looking up and taking a tighter grip on its handle.  
  
"Really?" asked Ambrose. For a moment his expression softened. "Mine was a Silver Arrow. I thought it would last forever. It was my older brother's from back before the war. He gave it to me before he went off to be an Auror ... after it was all over."  
  
"Good broom?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," he laughed, reaching for hers, "but I wouldn't try to play Quidditch on one, even if it had lasted. Nothing lasts forever, you know." Ambrose examined the Tinderblast for a moment before telling her, "It's not a bad broom. It just needs a few twigs clipped and maybe some other work. Madam Hooch could probably help you with that. If you're lucky, she might give you some other pointers on the game too."  
  
"I'll ask her," said Corinna as she took her broom back.  
  
"But the broom is only part of it," said Ambrose with a suddenly imperious expression. "You aren't in exactly the same condition as we are. I imagine that if you drop a stone or so, you'll find flying a bit easier in general ... not that your position requires a lot of flying, but a quick Keeper is always an asset. Look at Clearwater. He was brilliant because he was so light on his broomstick."  
  
Corinna blushed even though she desperately didn't want to. She was well-aware that she was a bit full-figured, a bit plump, but hearing the suggestion that she should lose weight made by her Quidditch captain hurt more somehow than the daily acknowledgment of the fact when she looked in the mirror.  
  
"I ... I'll keep that in mind," she stammered.  
  
"Don't take it so hard, Bellew. I was told practically the same thing when I was twelve. Now, look at me. Fit as the proverbial fiddle," he said lightly.  
  
"Of course," she nodded, trying not to betray the distress, or annoyance that she felt.  
  
Ambrose smiled again and patted her shoulder. For a moment she thought he was going to say something like, "Run along now," or something equally insulting.  
  
"Same time tomorrow," he told her with a nod.  
  
  
Students were already trickling out of the Great Hall by the time Corinna had made herself presentable again and went to join her friends, who had assured her that they would be waiting for her. Most of Ravenclaw house had cleared out already and returned to the Aerie. But toward the middle of the table were four people she really wanted to see after such a disappointing practice.  
  
"Corinna!" called Olivia as she approached. "How was it?"  
  
"If I have to do this seven days a week for six years ... I think it will definitely kill me," she replied, taking a seat next to Sissy.  
  
"It will get easier over time," Sophia assured her with an encouraging smile, despite the mild worry in her eyes.  
  
"You just aren't used it," added Olivia.  
  
Martin nodded in agreement to everything the girls had said and added, "They probably just went harder on you because you're new."  
  
"Maybe," said Corinna, managing a smile as a plate of warm food appeared in front of her. "Merlin, bless the house elves," she thought to herself.  
  
"It wasn't _that_ bad, was it?" asked Olivia after a moment.  
  
Corinna sighed and said, "I ... I suppose it wasn't."   
  
She didn't want Olivia to worry about next term, especially since she wouldn't need to worry. She was in perfect condition and would probably have a great broom.  
  
"How does the rest of the team look?" asked Olivia with a grin.  
  
"As good as last year," shrugged Corinna, poking at the food on her plate and thinking about what Ambrose had said about her weight.  
  
"For those of us who weren't here," said Martin, who was a huge Quidditch fan too, "can you be a bit more specific?"  
  
Corinna smiled at him and said, "We almost had the Cup last year ... if it wasn't for Gryffindor."  
  
Sissy was about to make a snide comment about one or more of the players when Sophia interjected, "That was last term. This term will be different, right?"  
  
"Right!" declared Olivia, giving Corinna a pat on the back.  
  
Corinna looked at all of them and completely lost her appetite. With the exception of perhaps Sophia they were all utterly obsessed over who would win the Quidditch Cup, and the House Cup too. Even Sissy who had never played an actual game of it before was determined to see Ravenclaw win. It was unsettling at best. It was more pressure than Corinna had imagined when she had replied to the letter offering her a 'reserve' position.  
  
"But it will be worth it," she assured herself silently, hoping fervently that she would be right, but not knowing ...   
  
She knew many things, but not that, not whether she would prove an asset or a liability to the team. She didn't want to disappoint her friends. Comments from Sexton, who she was already certain was nothing more than a git who liked picking on younger students, or from Ambrose, who was both a snotty prefect and a good player, could be borne patiently and with minimal difficulty in the long run, but she couldn't let Olivia and Sissy or even Sophia and Martin down.  
  
"Eat your supper, Corinna. It's getting cold, and we all want to go back to the common room," said Sissy, noticing that her friend wasn't eating, which she considered rather unusual.  
  
"I'm not all that hungry," said Corinna with a wince.  
  
"Back to the Aerie then?" asked Sissy, who wanted to be double-sure she was prepared for defense class the next day. It would be their final disarming and blocking lesson at least for a while. That sort of thing was a big part of second year, but they also had other subjects to cover.  
  
"Sure," Corinna nodded.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: No, this isn't going to be a story about adolescent anorexia. Sorry if anyone was hoping for that.  
  
  
silversea: Thank you for continuing to review!  
  
  



	9. Conversations

Chapter Nine  
  
Conversations  
  
  
  
For some strange reason Martin couldn't sleep that night. Part of the problem, he knew, was that Nathan Wainwright's snoring was growing louder at an almost exponential rate.   
  
And then there was the fact that his father had arranged for them to have lunch together again tomorrow. Martin had received an owl from him just that afternoon. Of course, then he would be seeing him in class immediately thereafter. He didn't understand why his father wanted to do this. _Once a week_, the elder Dumbledore had suggested in the note. And that made Martin a bit uncomfortable.  
  
Growing up, his father had come home as often as possible, according to his mother, and it was always great when he was around. But now, seeing him every day, it was different. It was like his father was watching him all the time, waiting for him to make a mistake or something.  
  
Maybe those were the thoughts keeping Martin awake, but whatever the cause, he decided the solution would be sitting in the quiet and solitude of the common room for a while.  
  
He had expected the common room to be empty as it was after hours and the lights were turned down. But he saw a familiar head of messy brown hair sticking up over the back of the couch near the fire.  
  
"I don't bite," said Corinna without turning.  
  
Martin felt a chill. How did she know it was him? He was aware of her uncanny little gift, which seemed to be a topic of conversation the others avoided discussing in anything resembling a candid fashion. But still, did such things cover knowing whom it was creeping down the stairs?  
  
He was mildly flummoxed as he took a seat in the armchair that Sissy preferred. It was quite comfy.  
  
"I'm surprised you aren't in bed. You must have had an exhausting day," said Martin after a moment of awkward silence.  
  
"I fell asleep for a while, dreamt of Quidditch, and couldn't fall asleep again," she admitted, pulling on a loose string on her night robe.  
  
"A bad dream then?" he questioned.  
  
"Neither here nor there," she shrugged. "And you? What's keeping you up tonight?" Corinna asked.  
  
"Wainwright's snoring," he said with a lop-sided smile that made Corinna giggle. "What? You should hear him," said Martin indignantly.  
  
"You have my sympathy. None of my roommates snore, of course, but Olivia grinds her teeth something awful."  
  
"That does not surprise me," chuckled Martin.  
  
"She probably dreams of Quidditch too," shrugged Corinna, making a mental list of all of Olivia's ambitions, most of which were centered around the game or academics.  
  
"What's your favorite team?"  
  
"Mine? Pride of Portee. They've been just shy of a league championship for the last two years. Yours?" asked Corinna, a big smile coming to her face as she thought about her favorite Quidditch team.  
  
"Puddlemere United, like my father. He takes me to a couple games every summer. I love the team. Don't get me wrong. But I think their chances at a league win are about as good as the Cannons'." said Martin.  
  
"You never know ..." said Corinna with a cryptic little smile.  
  
"Thanks. I'll keep my fingers crossed," he laughed, but he had the odd feeling that there was something to what she said.  
  
"I've only been to one game," Corinna admitted, sobering. "Sissy and I went to see Pride of Portee play the Holyhead Harpies right after school let out last summer. The Harpies aren't quite what they were a couple of years ago, but they still managed to win. Sissy was ecstatic. They're her favorites, and Olivia's too, because they're an all women team," she explained.  
  
"Your parents must not like Quidditch then," observed Martin.  
  
"My father doesn't enjoy going to games, but he follows the scores in _The Daily Prophet_," said Corinna. "Mum doesn't really care for magical things like that," she added.  
  
"Oh?" asked Martin curiously.  
  
"She's a muggle."  
  
Martin's eyebrows raised slightly as he said, "That's really interesting! So you know all about muggle things then?"  
  
"I was raised in a half-and-half town, so I suppose I do," she answered.  
  
"You'd be great at Muggle Studies then," said Martin.  
  
"No doubt, but I wouldn't really learn anything, would I? I have plans to take other courses next year instead," she told him.  
  
"I think I'm going to take it; when I have the opportunity, that is," he said.  
  
"I'll help you with your homework then," she said with a smile.  
  
"Corinna, you should probably go to bed. You have practice again tomorrow ... and classes," said Martin after a moment. He shifted uneasily in his seat and glanced furtively toward the portrait hole.  
  
"So you can sneak down to the kitchens all alone and drown your sorrows in a cup of hot chocolate?" she asked with a slight smirk that she had picked up from Sissy. It was quite annoying though seldom seen.  
  
Martin flushed and asked, "How did you know that?" He had been considering that plan of action for only a few minutes and hated to think that he was that transparent.  
  
"I just know things sometimes," she shrugged.  
  
"Do you want to come along then?" he asked after a moment's thought. He had planned to go alone, imagining that he could find his way on his own.  
  
"What about the ... vampire?" she asked with a shiver.  
  
"It's been more than a week now. No one else has seen anything ... and I hear that some of the older Gryffindors are out nearly every night," Martin told her.  
  
"And where do you hear this?"  
  
"I have defense with the Gryffindors and they talk ... all the time."  
  
"It isn't safe out there right now," Corinna told him. She seemed rather certain.  
  
"You were right about that last time," he admitted grudgingly, "but if we were careful ..."  
  
"You would still be bitten," she said as her features suddenly grew cold and stern. Her blue eyes were icy as she looked at him.  
  
"Bitten?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she nodded, "I am almost certain of it. That's what brought me down here."  
  
"I thought you couldn't sleep," he countered, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on them as he looked at her.  
  
"Things happen for a reason. The reason I couldn't sleep was ... because of what I know. I came down here to try and stop you from leaving the Aerie. It's safe here," she said.  
  
"Why didn't you mention this earlier?" he asked.  
  
"Would you have believed me?"  
  
"I'm not sure I believe you now," he replied with a frown.  
  
"That's all right. You don't have to," answered Corinna.  
  
Martin simply shook his head. She had already proven herself once. It was difficult to deny that. And was it worth the risk for a cup of chocolate and plate of cookies? He didn't think so, but something pulled at him ... maybe it was being raised by two Gryffindors. But he wanted to know if there was something, not just something, but a vampire, roaming the halls by night. If she said it was down there ...  
  
"The prefects will be coming in from their rounds soon. It's Ravenclaw's night," said Corinna, "and they will have seen something. We can wait for them."  
  
Martin started at the calmly spoken words and said, "How long?"  
  
"They finish up at midnight," she said, looking at the big magical clock by the portrait hole. "Less than half an hour now."  
  
"Corinna, how do you know these things?" he asked, shaking his head.  
  
"The prefects' schedule was posted last Monday afternoon," she answered coolly.  
  
He looked at her blankly for a moment before rubbing his eyes.  
  
"That wasn't what I meant exactly," he said.  
  
"What do you want me to say? Something hokey? Like I have the Inner Eye?" she asked in a sharp tone. "No thanks," she snorted, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.  
  
"Sorry ..." he said quietly. He had not intended to insult her or anything. "I didn't realize ..."  
  
"It's all right. The others have got used to it. I don't suppose you have," she said with a small sigh.  
  
"But they don't listen to you," he pointed out.  
  
"They know I'm wrong sometimes," she explained with a faint blush. "I mean, no one's perfect, are they?"  
  
"No, I guess not," he agreed, "but how often are you wrong?"  
  
"Less than half the time," she answered a bit too quickly.  
  
"Then you might be wrong about tonight," he hedged.  
  
"I could be," she admitted, "but I'm not."  
  
"Well, we'll see now, won't we?" he asked with a lop-sided smile.  
  
Corinna looked toward the clock again and smiled as she left her seat, stretching and yawning softly.  
  
"We will," she nodded, motioning for him to get up and follow her.  
  
"Where are we going?" he asked.  
  
"Out of sight, silly. We wouldn't want those prefects to catch us out of bed, right?" she asked with a chuckle.  
  
"Right," Martin nodded, following her into a shadowy alcove near the steps to the fifth year boys' dormitory.  
  
"We shouldn't be spotted here," said Corinna.  
  
"I won't even ask if you're sure," he remarked, squinting at her in the near-darkness.  
  
"Good, because I'm not," she replied with a half smile.  
  
It was several long minutes later when they heard the portrait hole open, admitting two young men into the Ravenclaw common room. Corinna recognized Ignatius Ambrose's voice immediately, but couldn't readily place the voice of the other, older prefect.  
  
"I'm telling you, what you saw was just a student. Nothing more," said Ambrose.  
  
"And I'm telling you: bollocks! It was something else. Something that ought not have been there," said the other prefect.  
  
Corinna gave Martin a superior look as the prefects stopped in front of the fireplace to finish their discussion. From where they stood Corinna could only see Ambrose, but she hoped that he could not see her.  
  
"Well, some Gryffindor is probably having a laugh at your expense right now," said Ambrose, using a very condescending tone, despite the fact that his companion was older than him. "I can't believe you ran away!" he scoffed.  
  
"You would have too, if you had actually seen what I saw."  
  
"Hayhurst, I've had a long day. I had _practice_ this evening. I want to go to bed. Consider the discussion closed," said Ambrose shortly.  
  
"Look here, I don't care what you were doing this evening nor any other. We've got to report this to someone," Hayhurst objected furiously.  
  
Corinna smiled as she watched Ambrose draw himself up to his full height and put his hands on his hips. She couldn't see Michael Hayhurst, but she knew that he was about six inches shorter than Ambrose, stocky, and just as temperamental as Olivia. He was also a Half-blood like she was.  
  
"Don't you _dare_! It could have been just a ... a figment of your imagination. I won't go along with this," said Ambrose.  
  
"Professor Flitwick deserves to know if something's been seen ..." Hayhurst started to tell him, but Ambrose cut him off.  
  
"You wouldn't disturb the professor over something like this! He would have our heads if it turned out to be nothing."  
  
"And if it's something? Something out of the Forbidden Forest or worse? What about that, Ambrose?"  
  
"This is so silly! Fine, tell Flitwick, but do it in the morning like a sensible person," said Ambrose, starting toward the stairs.  
  
"I will. Then we'll see who's silly," replied Hayhurst, stamping off toward his own dormitory.  
  
Ambrose paused and shook his head before starting up the stairs leading to the fifth year dormitory, muttering, "That bloke will have the castle in an uproar over a figment of his own ruddy imagination. I can see it now."  
  
At that moment something terrible happened. Martin sneezed, and rather loudly at that. It was possibly due to the dust in the alcove, but that hardly mattered as Ambrose stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Who's there?" he asked, squinting into the shadows.  
  
Martin looked at Corinna rather apologetically before sneezing a second time. She considered kicking him in the shin, but didn't think that it would help.  
  
Ambrose descended the stairs slowly, drew his wand, and said, "_Lumos_!"  
  
Corinna blinked in the sudden light, and said, "Cut it out!" She knew they were spotted.  
  
"Blimey! Bellew, what the devil are you doing down here?" he asked, pursing his lips and looking rather annoyed, not to mention imperious and surprised. "And ... Dumbledore?"  
  
"We were ..." Corinna began, and the words failed her. What was she supposed to tell the prefect? She ran over a few options in her mind: _we couldn't sleep_, _we were bored_, _we were spying on you and Hayhurst_. But none of them seemed likely to satisfy Ambrose.  
  
"Nothing," said Dumbledore. "We weren't doing anything."  
  
Ushering them into the light, Ambrose looked at them for a moment before saying, "Well, you're both awfully young to be caught snogging." Both of the younger students blushed at this remark. "And I don't think it would look good if Flitwick found out about this," said Ambrose, mainly to Corinna. Obviously he didn't want his new Keeper in any unnecessary trouble. "So why don't both of you get back to your rooms, and we'll forget this ever happened?" he suggested.  
  
"Of course," Corinna agreed.  
  
Martin nodded mutely and proceeded to scamper up the nearby stairs leading to his dormitory.  
  
Corinna started off too, but Ambrose caught her by the arm.  
  
"What _were_ the two of you doing?" he asked in a low voice.  
  
"Like Martin said: nothing," she replied coolly.  
  
Ambrose studied her for a moment, possibly looking for signs of guilt in her face and eyes, before releasing her arm. He saw only mild insouciance, nothing more, but it still bothered him.  
  
"If I should catch you again, I will have to report it to Professor Flitwick, and he won't like it," Ambrose informed her before allowing her to leave.  
  
  
"You were out last night," accused Sissy the next morning as they were all getting ready for class.  
  
"For a little while," Corinna admitted as she tried in vain to do something with her hair. "And it's a good thing too," she added.  
  
"Oh?" questioned Olivia curiously as she helped Sophia braid her long hair, which was becoming something of a chore, despite the fact that Sophia had just had it cut before school began.  
  
"One of the prefects who had rounds last evening saw our ... visitor," said Corinna.  
  
"You're joking!" Olivia exclaimed.  
  
Sissy stopped brushing her hair to comment, "And what did he see exactly?"  
  
"The vampire, though he didn't realize what it was," said Corinna.  
  
"Not surprising," remarked Sissy. "Not the sort of thing one would expect to see inside the castle. I'm curious as to how it's getting in," she continued.  
  
"The front door?" asked Sophia.  
  
"But vampires cannot enter a dwelling unless they are invited," Sissy pointed out.  
  
"Is that true? I thought it was only a folk tale," said Olivia with a frown.  
  
"But Hogwarts isn't a dwelling, is it? Not in the strictest sense of the word," Sophia commented.  
  
"Why not?" asked Corinna, puzzled.  
  
"Because the castle has no living permanent residents, not even the professors really, when you think about it. Most of them have real homes elsewhere. I mean there's Ogg, but he doesn't live inside the castle nor does his apprentice," said Sophia.  
  
"Semantics," scoffed Sissy.  
  
"Then who invited it inside?" asked Sophia, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a confident expression.  
  
"I don't know, but these creatures are supposed to be wily and cunning," answered Sissy. "It could have tricked someone," she defended as the others all frowned, not liking the idea one bit.  
  
"Who would be so foolish? Hypothetically, speaking," asked Olivia.  
  
"Well, they wouldn't be a Ravenclaw, but ... the other houses just aren't as smart as we are," shrugged Sissy.  
  
"And that's still working under the assumption that it was invited, that it didn't have another way inside," said Sophia.  
  
"Either way, we should get to breakfast," said Corinna, who was quite hungry after having such a meager dinner the evening before.  
  
"Right. We can discuss this later," agreed Sophia.  
  
  
The quartet met Martin in the common room as usual and left the Aerie to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. They were almost halfway there when Olivia realized that she had forgotten something important: her gardening gloves for Herbology.  
  
"Of all the luck!" she said, gritting her teeth in frustration as she fished through her satchel and pockets to be sure.  
  
Professor Sprout had warned them on Friday that they would be working with Borotubers and would require gloves to protect their hands. The gardening gloves had been among the items on the supply list for both their first and second year as everyone was asked to have their own.  
  
"What?" asked Sissy as they all paused.  
  
"My gloves ... I'll run back for them and meet you in the Great Hall," she said.  
  
"Hurry or we won't save you any breakfast," joked Sophia as her friend dashed back up the corridor.  
  
  
Olivia had cursed her poor memory, which actually wasn't that bad, several times by the time she had jogged up to the Aerie, retrieved her gloves, and returned to the main corridors of the school. She had left the gloves on top of her trunk and simply walked out of the dormitory without them.   
  
As she neared the staff room, she heard raised voices inside and slowed her steps. Curiosity got the better of her as she stopped and strained to hear what was being said on the other side of the nearly closed door.  
  
"Albus, Filius, there is no emergency," said the strained, but patient voice of Armando Dippet. "Two students have supposedly seen something. Well, that's very strange, but I can hardly sanction your proposed increase in security. The prefects have enough on their hands as it is without doubling their rounds. And as for Mister Pringle and Ogg, I can't justify having them out after hours, chasing specters or figments as likely as not," Dippet continued reasonably, perhaps trying to placate the other professors.  
  
"They haven't seen _something_;" said Dumbledore, "they have seen what would seem to be a vampire."  
  
"That, would be unlikely," said the crisp and business-like voice of Professor Knowles. "We haven't had a resident vampire in this area since ... since the centaurs came to the Forbidden Forest centuries ago."  
  
"Then I suppose we are due for one, or more," said Filius Flitwick in a high and slightly shrill voice.  
  
"Both these claims come from your house ..." said the softer, almost malevolent sounding voice of Professor Krohn. "Perhaps they are already under too much ... pressure, and they are seeing things. Though I must say, it is a bit early in the term for such ... histrionics," he added.  
  
Olivia colored slightly at the Slytherin's words and peered through the gap between the door and the jam, trying to get a look at the proceedings.  
  
She could see only a portion of the room as much of her view was obstructed by the back of Professor Dumbledore, who had his hands clenched behind him. But she did spot Krohn leaning against the high-backed armchair in front of the hearth and Flitwick standing on a small three-legged stool to make himself heard better. Knowles, she imagined, was near the window. Professor Dippet, from the sound of his voice, was near the door with Dumbledore, his deputy.  
  
"Histrionics?" sputtered Flitwick.  
  
"It means ..." began Krohn.  
  
"I know what it means!" interrupted Flitwick, stamping his foot and nearly falling from the stool. "Next, you'll be calling my students liars!"  
  
"Have you any reason for us to believe this wild story that you and Albus have brought us? Have you any proof?" asked Knowles with an edge to his voice, possibly due to having to change his syllabus for the term at the whim of the deputy headmaster.  
  
A figure stirred in the high back chair and ancient Professor Binns stood up.  
  
"Gentlemen, please, are we not more civilized than this? Let us consider their arguments. If what they say is true, then our students are in grave danger," said Binns slowly and thoughtfully.  
  
Olivia smiled. He too was a Ravenclaw, though his school days were more than a century and a half passed.  
  
"Thank you, Binns," said Dumbledore with a nod, "you bring up an excellent point. What of the danger?"  
  
"Where there is no threat, there is no danger," said Krohn, only vaguely mollified by Binns' soft rebuke. His tone was less hostile, though rather weary, as if he were only yielding to the elderly history professor out of respect for someone so very old.  
  
"True, true," agreed Knowles.  
  
"Reynard," said Dippet, addressing the potions' master by his first name, "they have vampires where you come from. What was it? Großkarol....?"  
  
"Großkarolinenfeld," said Krohn a bit shortly, "and, yes, there were vampires in the area from time to time, but they almost always moved on peacefully. And at the Akademie der Zauberei we had brushes with local vampires who dwelled in the Black Forest, but no one was ever killed or changed."   
  
The professor spoke with great distaste on the subject.  
  
"And you really think that we could not possibly have a vampire here?" asked Dippet, acknowledging that Krohn had some knowledge of the subject.  
  
"It is not impossible, but it seems unlikely," answered Krohn.  
  
"You men," said an impatient feminine voice that Olivia knew to be Professor Sprout's. She had been quiet and out of sight thus far. "Such silly questions! Why not believe the students? Why not exercise caution? Would that really be so disruptive?" she asked.  
  
"Agatha ..." sighed Dippet, "do you have any idea how much trouble this would cause if wildly known? The students would be terrified; the parents would be irate at best."  
  
"Then don't tell them about the vampire. Make something up," suggested another witch: Beatrice Vector, who taught Arithmancy.  
  
"Not very Gryffindor sentiments," taunted Krohn with some amusement.  
  
"Now, now ..." said Dippet, who was beginning to seem like a referee. "I think Beatrice has a valid point. We could institute _some_ of the suggested precautions without making a fuss as to why ..."  
  
"So ridiculous," said Knowles with a short sigh.  
  
"But it may be worth it," countered Flitwick quickly.  
  
"Very well, Filius," said Dippet, "you and Albus may do as you have suggested, but Reynard and Agatha are under no compulsion to change the routines of their house prefects."  
  
"Thank you," said Dumbledore and Krohn almost in unison.  
  
With that Olivia knew that the staff meeting was about to come to an end and hurriedly moved away from the door. She heard the door creak open just as she reached a respectable distance down the hall. She simply kept walking as the professors poured out of the room. They seemed to pay her no heed as they went about their business, or in most cases started toward the Great Hall themselves. Olivia smiled to herself. She would have some very interesting things to discuss with her friends.  
  
She did not happen to notice the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he passed her on his way to his office.  
  


* * *

A/N: If anyone is from Großkarolinenfeld, I'm not making fun. I just saw the town from a train once and thought it looked interesting.  
  
HeeroTomoe: I know the summary isn't very good, but it's difficult to describe a story in such a small space _and_ make it interesting. I'm glad you decided to give it a chance despite that. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	10. An incident with the Slytherins

Chapter Ten  
  
An incident with the Slytherins  
  
  
  
Martin had a lot on his mind that morning even before Olivia gave them all the news about their professors and the 'vampire situation'. He tried in vain to clear his head as he left the Charms' classroom to go and have lunch with his father. Flying class had been less fun that morning because of all the unpleasant thoughts rushing around in his brain. He had nearly flown into another student. Then he was utterly hopeless in Charms as they practiced levitating heavier objects, like blocks of wood and so forth. Professor Flitwick had shaken his head in disapproval when Martin failed to lift the two kilo block of oak. All of his classmates had managed it by the end of the lesson.  
  
Martin sighed softly as he knocked on the office door. It opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore and a house elf that was setting the table by the window.  
  
"Come in, my boy," said Dumbledore, giving Martin a genial pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Lunch is prepared, sir," said the house elf.  
  
Martin frowned for a moment as he recognized the elf as Inky, the house elf that the girls knew. Inky gave Martin subtle wink when his father wasn't looking.  
  
"Thank you," said the professor, motioning for Martin to have a seat.  
  
"If you is needing anything, just call," said the house elf before disappearing with a soft pop.  
  
"So, how are your classes?" asked the elder Dumbledore as they began to eat.  
  
Martin shrugged and said, "Not bad, but ... I never imagined that Charms would be so difficult nor the History of Magic so tedious."  
  
"Professor Binns is a treasure trove of knowledge, but the way he chooses to impart that knowledge might be found a bit lacking at times," admitted Dumbledore with a chuckle. "But I never imagined you having trouble with Charms," he added.  
  
"Mainly just today ... lots on my mind."  
  
"Really?" questioned his father.  
  
And here was the crux of the problem. From what Olivia had told Martin and the others, many of the professors, including perhaps even the headmaster, did not believe his father when he had informed them that there was a vampire in the school. Martin certainly didn't have any doubt that his father believed him, which was a great comfort to be sure, but what about these other people? He was somewhat miffed and offended that anyone should doubt his father, who was, he knew, a well-respected wizard and noted for his fight against the forces of darkness. In fact, it irritated Martin to no end.  
  
But he couldn't tell his father that without revealing that Olivia had eavesdropped on the discussion in the staff room.  
  
"It's nothing," shrugged Martin, staring down at his plate.  
  
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully as he looked over his spectacles at Martin. He was always so easy for the older wizard to read. He knew that something was bothering Martin whether he would admit it or not.  
  
"Are you still concerned about what you saw in the corridor last week?" questioned Professor Dumbledore. Martin looked up sharply, which was as good as any spoken affirmative. "The matter is being taken care of," he assured him. "But I imagine you already knew that," he added.  
  
Martin was stunned.  
  
"How did you ..." he began to ask.  
  
"I was quite aware that one of your friends ... overheard a conversation this morning," he answered with a twinkle in his blue eyes.  
  
"Is she going to be in any trouble?" asked Martin.  
  
"None at all, though perhaps you might warn her to be more cautious next time," replied Dumbledore with a chuckle.  
  
"Thanks," said Martin quietly.  
  
"No need to thank me. I'm rather pleased that some of the students know. It might make them think twice about reckless after hours exploits," said Dumbledore. "At least until we settle this matter," he added with a somber expression.  
  
"Olivia said that ..." he began before thinking better of it.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"She said that you and Professor Flitwick were the only ones taking this seriously," he said uncomfortably.  
  
"Then she must not have been listening very carefully," answered Dumbledore. Martin gave him a puzzled look. "Oh, certainly some of the professors don't believe that Hogwarts has been infiltrated by a vampire, but that doesn't mean they don't take the matter seriously. Quite to the contrary," he explained.  
  
"Really?" questioned Martin.  
  
"I assure you that any threat to this school or its students is always taken very seriously," said Dumbledore.   
  
The professor frowned for a moment as he remembered a crisis in midst of the war years involving the death of student who was killed by a mysterious creature. That had been regarded with the utmost gravity, but they had not been able to save poor Myrtle Meeks, the young Ravenclaw who had died. Maybe that was why Flitwick was so quick to believe the prefect who had seen something strange in the third floor corridor.  
  
"Do you think ... it will be caught?" asked Martin after a pause.  
  
"Or else it won't come back once it figures out we're on to it," said Dumbledore.  
  
"But aren't vampires supposed to be very clever?"  
  
Dumbledore raised a graying eyebrow and asked, "Have you been reading up on the subject?"  
  
"Er ... yes," he replied.  
  
"Of course you have," chuckled Albus, reminding himself that his son was a Ravenclaw, and so were all of his friends.  
  
"There isn't very much information on vampires in the library," Martin told him.  
  
"You didn't manage to find a way into the restricted section then. All of the specialized information on vampires is in there. But I'm sure than the first year Defense Against the Dark Arts text has a small article in it."  
  
"Really?" asked Martin, looking mildly chagrined. He had never considered looking there, but then, defense was hardly his favorite subject.  
  
"Unless Professor Knowles has changed books, and I find that prospect unlikely," his father replied. "Of course, he does not cover such ... impractical subjects in his classes." he added, meaning that Knowles didn't think much of the study of vampires, werewolves, and Dark Creatures in general.  
  
"It hardly seems worth taking a defense class then," Martin muttered.  
  
"I remember thinking the very same thing ..." mused Dumbledore thoughtfully. "As it turned out, much of what I learned was quite useful."  
  
Martin shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought of actually applying what he was being taught in defense class, although it was mostly theoretical so far. He didn't like the idea very much. As a child he had often had nightmares about Dark Wizards and other things of that nature. Hence his preference toward Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor.  
  
"But you don't want to hear about that," said Dumbledore. "And we both have class in just a little while," he added, taking out his strange watch and looking at it for a moment.  
  
Martin smiled as he tried to make sense of it. He was almost certain that only his father could read that timepiece properly.  
  
"I need to drop by the Aerie for my defense text beforehand," said Martin, leaving his seat.  
  
"Then you should hurry. You wouldn't want to be late for Transfigurations," said Dumbledore, rising and showing him to the door.  
  
"Of course not, father," said Martin mock-indignantly, "and I wouldn't want to lose house points."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and watched him move quickly down the hallway in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. He was very glad to have his son around and hoped they could make up for any time lost between them over the years.  
  
"We'll see," he murmured distractedly before locking his office and starting toward his classroom.  
  
  
Later that afternoon, after classes had ended for the second years, but before Corinna's Quidditch practice began, the girls had agreed to meet Martin in the library to recommend some supplemental reading for Transfigurations. He was anxious about his ability to perform adequately in the class, and Corinna, who was quite skilled in that area, claimed to know just the books to assist him with his difficulties. Sissy had commented that confidence could not be found in a book, but she was summarily ignored, though Olivia smiled secretively to herself as she had found a charm to give confidence the previous spring. She was also ready to ridicule publicly anyone who would use such a charm, but that was beside the point.  
  
As they reached the corridor that more often than not connected the dungeons with the main level and the library, they heard the sound of a familiar annoyed voice, yelling, "Hey! Put me down!"  
  
"Martin," said Corinna, breaking into a run in the direction of the shout with the others hot on her heels.  
  
They rounded a corner to find three Slytherins, two with wands drawn, holding Martin Dumbledore upside down and about three or four feet above the floor. Martin was fighting his robes, which had covered his face, and having words with his assailants.  
  
"You big bullies! Put me down! Right now!" he insisted, swatting at the robes as though he were trying to get at the Slytherins.  
  
"Look! The bratty little know-it-all wears short pants under his robes!" laughed the Slytherin who was overseeing the proceedings, pointing at the garment and the young wizard's skinny legs.  
  
"Get Martin," said Sissy quietly, drawing her own wand. "Jelly Legs on three, Corinna," she instructed smoothly. There was not even a hint of panic in her voice, though the cold anger she felt carried through her tones just fine.  
  
"Right," said Sophia and Olivia, understanding what Sissy meant for them to do.  
  
A split second later the corridor was alive with jinxes and others spells.  
  
"_Mobilicorpus_!" cried Sophia and Olivia in unison, having used Sissy's count as their own.  
  
Meanwhile Sissy and Corinna cast a Jelly Legs Jinx on the two boys who had levitated Martin, which confused them, but did not stop them nor their companion from acting.  
  
Of course, Sophia and Olivia had more important things on their mind that swapping hexes with the bullies as Martin, thanks to their spell, was hurtling through the air toward them, flailing his arms madly as he did so. They weren't quick enough to get out of the way and were bowled over, landing in a jumble against the far wall of the corridor.  
  
Sissy attempted to stun the boys, but she just wasn't strong enough, although she was slowing them down, unlike Corinna, who had succumbed to Rictusempra and was fighting desperately to say the counter spell between giggles.  
  
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" shouted a voice that stilled all of the action in the corridor almost instantly. It was Professor Krohn, making his way up from the dungeons, and he was positively livid.  
  
"Professor ... we can explain," stammered the ringleader, a pale and dark-hared third year not especially known for his skill in dueling as he had lost to Chang the year before.  
  
"Black, Bulstrode, Flint, I certainly hope so," breathed Krohn as his voice dropped to hardly more than a hiss. "And the rest of you, what have you got to say for yourselves?" he asked, whirling on the Ravenclaws with a very angry expression on his face.  
  
Corinna had just managed to remove the tickling spell and clambered to her feet, blushing a brilliant shade of red as she smoothed her robes. Sissy was still panting for breath, but otherwise composed, given the circumstances. The fire of battle remained in her normally chilly gray eyes. Olivia had just managed to haul Martin to his feet. He was very disheveled and ruddier than usual. He looked more embarrassed than they had ever seen him. Olivia on the other hand looked simply furious. But Sophia remained on the floor ... clutching her right wrist and biting her lower lip, willing herself not to cry.  
  
"Well?" asked Krohn impatiently as he muttered counter spells to removed the mostly harmless jinxes placed on his students. He seemed almost reluctant to do them that kindness.  
  
Sissy pursed her lips and prepared to answer him, which would certainly have been the end of them as she had a very sharp tongue, but at that moment Professor Krohn spotted Sophia.  
  
"You, Colville, get up and tell me precisely what happened here," he ordered, striding purposefully toward her.  
  
She managed to pry her eyes open and looked up at Krohn, but no words emerged from her mouth when she opened it.  
  
"Professor, they were just demonstrating some spells," said Martin in an attempt to defend the girls. "There was simply a misunderstanding with some of your students," he added.  
  
"Silence! Speak when you're spoken to," Krohn snapped, kneeling on the stone floor next to Sophia, who was able to sit up, but continued to clutch her wrist. "Let me see that," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly at Sophia as he reached for her wrist.  
  
"Broken ..." she managed hoarsely as he gently pried her fingers away from the injured appendage.  
  
"Cripes!" muttered Olivia, looking over Krohn's shoulder at her friend.  
  
"Don't be foolish," said the potions' master. "It's only sprained at worst. A good lesson to you, I might add."  
  
"Shouldn't we get her to the hospital wing ... sir?" questioned Olivia, gritting her teeth as she glanced from the bullies, all three of whom were smirking, to the obviously very callous Professor Krohn.  
  
"In a moment ..." he said quietly, removing his wand from his sleeve. "I believe I can take away most of the pain," said Krohn to Sophia before knitting his brow in extreme concentration and speaking a quiet incantation.  
  
She relaxed slightly as the pain all but vanished. Her lower arm felt very stiff, but it was a vast improvement.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said as he helped to her to feet with a look of profound irritation.  
  
"Now, I expect an account of what happened here, Miss Colville," he said, ignoring her thanks.  
  
"I don't want to be a tale-bearer, sir," she began.  
  
"Don't worry," he said, shooting a withering, disappointed glare at his own students, who shuffled their feet accordingly. "They will have opportunity to defend themselves."  
  
"We were going to meet Martin at the library and heard him yelling ... so we ran to investigate. Your students were holding him upside-down and taunting him," said Sophia.  
  
"Go on," said Krohn, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"Well, Olivia and I tried a Mobilicorpus spell to get him down while Sissy and Corinna ... handled the bullies," said Sophia.  
  
"Black, is that correct?" asked Krohn, turning toward his students.  
  
"We were only showing him how it's done. I've heard some of the Gryffindors say that he can't levitate anything heavier than a brick, sir. Thought he might like a demonstration. We didn't mean any harm," said Black, trying to look innocent and confused. As he was very well-practiced this didn't work half so badly as one might think.  
  
Krohn's shoulders slumped slightly, and he said, "That will be five points from all of you. You three should certainly know better."  
  
"We're sorry, professor," said Flint, who had obviously been coached to respond in that fashion.  
  
"What about them, sir?" asked Black. "They hurled the first hex," he added.  
  
"Five points from each of them as well," sighed Krohn.  
  
The curl of Black's lip was enough to let Sissy know that he considered it a victory: Slytherin lost fifteen points; Ravenclaw lost twenty-five points. She imagined that Krohn found the tally quite acceptable as well.  
  
"Now get your friend to the hospital wing, and if I ever have to deal with any of you again, it's detentions with Mister Pringle," he threatened. The girls shuddered. "And, you three, come with me. I think we need to have a serious talk," he told the Slytherins. They hung their heads accordingly and followed him into the dungeons.  
  
"We got off lightly," said Sophia with a weak smile.  
  
Olivia put an arm around her waist and said, "You poor thing! We must get you to Madam Pomfrey and let her have a look at that arm!"  
  
"It's not bad ..." Sophia told them as they all gave her sympathetic looks. Even Sissy was beginning to cool off.  
  
"Ugh! And that great brute! What did he do to your wrist?" asked Sissy, who almost wanted to examine it for herself to find out.  
  
"Just immobilized it or something, I think, and Professor Krohn isn't a brute," replied Sophia.  
  
"Still your favorite after that? I thought he was going to give it a twist for a minute there," scoffed Olivia.  
  
Sophia colored and said nothing. She had expected the acerbic potions' master to be rough as well, but he had acted quite the contrary.  
  
"The rest of the house will be very displeased when they hear how many points we lost," commented Corinna as they walked.  
  
"Tell me about it!" said Olivia.  
  
"But ..." Martin began before stopping and shaking his head. He was going to say it wasn't their fault, but he didn't think it would help as they had risked their necks to help him.  
  
"We'll get them back," said Sissy confidently, "and everyone knows that."  
  
Whether she was referring to exacting vengeance on the three Slytherins or recouping the points, no one could say for certain. Martin rather hoped it was the latter.  
  
  
The hospital wing wasn't very busy that afternoon. They spied the school mediwitch, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, bustling about the ward as soon as they entered. She was a rather young witch to have such a position of responsibility, having graduated no more than ten years earlier. She had been on the job since the retirement of Madam Plummer, or for about five years that term. Although Pomfrey had been a Gryffindor in her school days, the girls could not help but to admire her vast medical knowledge and her cool demeanor. Sophia was considering applying for one of the sixth or seventh year internships under Pomfrey when she reached the appropriate age, assuming she received the required number of Owls.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey! We have a problem," called Olivia as they guided Sophia toward a bed.  
  
Poppy looked up from what she was doing and crossed the ward quickly.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked, looking at Sophia, who was obviously the student in question.  
  
"My wrist ..." said Sophia, holding out the stiff appendage.  
  
"Oh, dear," said Pomfrey, "it seems to be rather severely sprained. Which one of you immobilized it?"  
  
"Professor Krohn," said Sissy warily.  
  
"For a man without much formal training ..." she began. "But never mind that ... I'll have to take the spell off to mend it. It might hurt a bit," she warned. "A dueling injury, I imagine? But I must say it is rather early in the day for one," commented Pomfrey as she drew her wand.  
  
"It wasn't really a duel," said Sophia, biting her lower lip.  
  
"No need to explain. I find that most of the time I would simply rather not know," said Poppy, pursing her lips. "And the rest of you," she said, looking at the other four students, "should clear out of here. I don't need you crowding around."  
  
"But shouldn't one of us stay with her?" asked Olivia.  
  
Pomfrey thought about it and said, "Just one. The rest must go."  
  
"Corinna, I know you've got practice, so you should go," said Sophia before she could volunteer.  
  
"All right," Corinna agreed reluctantly.  
  
"I should go with her then," said Sissy, who really did not wish to see Sophia's arm mended. Such things sometimes gave her a slight turn, though she was trying to get over it.  
  
"Erm ... I don't suppose you need me around," said Martin.  
  
"Then I'll stay," said Olivia, squeezing her best friend's hand.  
  
"Good luck!" said Corinna before the other three were off.  
  
"So much fuss over a little sprained wrist," said Madam Pomfrey with a shake of her head before taking off the immobilizing spell and mending the injury.  
  
For the record, it didn't hurt nearly as much as Sophia imagined it would, although it did seem to take a very long time.  
  


* * *

A/N: No, I'm not anti-Slytherin; I actually like Slytherins, but they certainly seem to know how to complicate the lives of students in other houses.  
  
  
silversea: No, I'm not German, but I did have a few classes in the language in school. I really enjoyed them too. Thanks for the question and the review!  
  
HeeroTomoe: Yes, it is really a vampire. You don't think Ravenclaws would do shoddy research, do you? I'm glad you are enjoying the story. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	11. Signs, portends, and Quidditch

Chapter Eleven  
  
Signs, portends, and Quidditch  
  
  
  
When Friday night came, Martin and the others pitied Corinna as she went to bed sometime just before ten o'clock in preparation for the next morning's five o'clock practice session and they remained in a cozy nook of the common room to continue their studying and what-not.  
  
"It's just indecent," Corinna murmured as she walked up the dormitory stairs.  
  
"Poor thing," said Sissy.  
  
"I know," sighed Olivia, who was thinking that she would be doing the same in just a year's time. The thought made her both anxious and excited.  
  
Sophia picked up her potions' text again and just shook her head. Soon the other members of the quartet returned to their reading. For a long time they were not interrupted. Then they heard the sound of a prefect talking in a worried whisper in a neighboring alcove.  
  
Sissy looked up from her Charms' book with an arched eyebrow and gestured for quiet. Surely the prefect didn't know that he could be overheard. Why not take advantage?  
  
"I saw what I saw," said the firm and steady voice of Michael Hayhurst, the prefect who had reported the 'intruder' to Professor Flitwick, as his voice rose from a whisper to a low, conversational tone.  
  
"I'm not doubting your word, Michael. Denham and I saw something skulking along last night just after eleven. It gave me a turn, and she was white as a sheet afterward," said Ethel Moss, the sixth year girls' prefect, referring to her younger counterpart Irene Denham.  
  
"Same here," Hayhurst admitted grudgingly.  
  
"But thinking about it now ... I'm not sure that it wasn't the caretaker's apprentice. He's a weird one, that Filch," said Moss with a dry laugh.  
  
"If it was him, then why was he skulking?" asked Hayhurst.  
  
"He doesn't like people, especially not students. Probably saw we were prefects and allowed out after hours and wanted nothing more to do with us," said Ethel, but she didn't sound entirely convinced.  
  
"Well ... I do see your point, but what I saw was taller than Filch, or Pringle for that matter, though not quite so big as Ogg," said Hayhurst, lowering his voice ever-so-slightly.  
  
The girls all exchanged glances. The vampire was making frequent visits, and even if the prefects had been paired-up for their patrols, they still didn't know why. Sissy snorted softly. She would have expected them to put the clues together for themselves after three nights of this nonsense.  
  
"All right. I'll give you that. So if it wasn't one of the staff or something, what then?" asked Moss.  
  
But Hayhurst remained silent on the matter.  
  
"Clever lot, aren't they?" asked Sissy in the quietest whisper she could manage.  
  
Olivia peered surreptitiously into the alcove only to find that Moss and Hayhurst had left without them realizing it. She shrugged.  
  
"But it's nice to get current information," she pointed out.  
  
"That wasn't what I meant at all," said Sissy, closing her book. "We figured out _what_ the thing was, so why can't they?" she asked.  
  
"Five heads must be better than two," said Olivia, giving Martin a poke in the ribs as he was staring down blankly at his Transfigurations text.  
  
"I wish ... I wish we could tell them. The prefects, I mean, since they go out there at night," he said with a solemn look.  
  
"I don't think they would believe us," said Sissy with a sniff as she looked out the window.  
  
"Right ..." he acknowledged.  
  
"Well, I hate this," said Olivia, shutting her book loudly. "Something should be done!" she added with a frustrated look on her face.  
  
"There will be plenty of teeth grinding tonight," thought Sissy with a muted sigh.  
  
"Something _is_ being done," argued Martin.  
  
The girls just looked at him for a moment. In the short time that they had known him, almost two weeks, he had almost never disputed anything they had said, deferring to their age and wisdom in almost all matters.  
  
"More then," said Sophia, flexing her wrist, something she had been doing for days almost as though she couldn't believe it had healed so well.  
  
"Maybe," said Martin, staring down at his book again.  
  
"I wish ... we could do something," said Olivia with a serious frown.  
  
"Someone fetch Professor Flitwick. There's a Gryffindor in our common room," said Sissy dryly.  
  
"Very funny," said Olivia, sitting back in her chair and almost pouting.  
  
"It's anything but," said Sophia. "That thing is going to bite or maybe even kill someone eventually," she added very somberly.  
  
"If it hasn't fed ..." began Martin, shuddering violently as he remembered Corinna's warning to him.  
  
Sissy gave a long-suffering sigh and took an overlarge book from her bag, which was next to her seat by the window, and said, "A vampire can go a long time without feeding. If it fed during the summer, it won't be desperate for a while."  
  
"Define 'a while' for us," requested Sophia.  
  
"Five or six months since its last feeding, if it's conserving its energy," she replied in matter-of-fact tones. "It can also drink the blood of animals or purchase artificial ..."  
  
"Please!" interrupted Martin and Olivia with looks of disgust on their faces.  
  
"And if it isn't conserving or doing that other stuff?" asked Sophia carefully.  
  
"Then ... it couldn't go much longer than a month or so before the drive to feed becomes overwhelming," Sissy answered. "And if that happens, then no one in the castle will be safe after dark."  
  
  
It was half past four in the morning when Corinna hauled herself out of bed. She wanted to cry, and then go back to sleep, especially after looking outside, where it was still rather dark. It was also pouring down rain. She thought she could hear the distant sound of thunder too. Or was that the sound of her heart sinking down to her stomach? Corinna couldn't quite decide. Most probably it was thunder. She sighed softly and began getting ready to face her first Saturday Quidditch practice.  
  
"And then there's tomorrow," she reminded herself hopelessly. "But you did sign up for this, completely willing and everything."  
  
Of course, as a reserve player, she might not have been required to attend early morning weekend practices, which were a nasty idea to begin with. Olivia had explained to her that they were the legacy of the late Eunice Murray, who had captained the Ravenclaw Quidditch team to victory during the last century. The practices were still disgusting, no disrespect intended, in Corinna's opinion as she dressed out in her Quidditch clothes. The official robes in her size had still not arrived. Not surprising really.  
  
She left the Aerie as quietly as possible, not waking any of her roommates, who were going to meet her for breakfast a little after seven o'clock. She imagined that Martin, who was a morning person, would make it, but she didn't see Sissy or Sophia leaving their beds until a decent hour. Olivia, because of her love of the game, was a wild card.  
  
  
Corinna, much to her surprise, was five minutes early when she reached the locker rooms. The sight that greeted her was rather cheering.   
  
The rest of the team looked just as sleepy and miserable as she felt. Sexton, the insufferable Chaser, was lying on his back on a bench. He appeared to be either dead or sound asleep. The two Beaters were huddled in the floor, nursing cups of chocolate that were being dispensed by two house elves that seemed far too chipper for five o'clock in the morning. Ambrose was splashing water on his face in the back while Manfred North and Helen Parker were tying back their long hair and examining the circles under their eyes in a mirror. The reserve players were no where to be seen. For a moment Corinna envied them.  
  
"Would you be liking some chocolate, Miss Bellew?" asked the house elf. She couldn't recall his name, but Corinna had seen him in the kitchens before, and he obviously remembered her.  
  
"Thank you," she said, taking a steaming mug gratefully. She didn't necessarily need the warmth of it, but the sugar and chocolate were most welcome.  
  
The house elf bowed and continued offering cups to the other players, except Sexton, who very obviously wanted to be left alone.  
  
Ambrose walked into the main portion of the locker room, dabbing his face with a towel as he did so. His hair was already tousled and a little damp, and his eyes were bleary, possibly from lack of sleep as he had had rounds with Hayhurst again just the night before. But he also looked determined.  
  
"Finish your drinks so we can hit the field," he said succinctly, not in the mood to mince his words.  
  
Sexton sat up with a painful groaned and asked, "So you are serious about this?"  
  
"Clearwater wanted us to be in top form," said Ambrose.  
  
"No lie?" asked Sexton with a deadpan expression. He was no stranger to sarcasm. "I'm sure he did, Ambrose, but did he want us to exhaust ourselves before the first game?"  
  
"Who's exhausted?" asked the captain with a steely look in his eyes. The sleepiness was gone in an instant. "Let me know because I'm sure another reserve player would like to get bumped up," he added.  
  
"No one's exhausted yet, but at this rate ... we're going to be, all of us, including you," argued Sexton with a stubborn expression. "David would never've done it like this. He had more sense."  
  
At those words Corinna, who had been watching the display, glanced at the other players. They were all seventh years and were observing the argument coolly with barely a hint of interest. It was like they had a silent agreement not to interfere. Corinna surmised that they were giving Ambrose the chance to prove himself as a leader.  
  
"You want to stand up and say that, _Alexander_?" asked Ambrose fiercely.  
  
Sexton slowly rose to his feet, planting himself firmly in front of Ambrose, before answering, "You heard me, _Iggy_."  
  
"I should have you off the team for insubordination," said Ambrose.  
  
Sexton didn't so much as blink.  
  
"You wouldn't dare. We haven't a chance at the Cup as it stands, but without three good Chasers, this team would only embarrass themselves," he stated. "Flitwick did a number on us when he gave David the boot."  
  
"Easy, Sexton, this is between you and our captain," shot Savage from where she was watching them.  
  
Sexton narrowed his eyes at Ambrose, but said nothing more.  
  
"If you want off the team, then you had best say so now or shut up. We don't need your kind of attitude in here nor out there." Ambrose told him, gesturing toward the Quidditch pitch.  
  
The silence was unbearable. For a moment Corinna thought Sexton would either take Ambrose up on the offer or hit him. He did neither. Sexton merely sat down on the bench and began doing up his laces with his jaw clenched.  
  
Ambrose seemed to relax as he knew he had won that match and backed away from his seething teammate.  
  
"Are we going to practice or not?" asked North as the nervous house elves began collecting the empty mugs.  
  
  
The rain did not let up for the duration of practice, soaking the team to the bone. Corinna was shivering slightly when she returned to the locker room at seven, at which time the Hufflepuff team, fresh from breakfast and whistling a cheery tune, was just taking the field. She was miserable and felt rather like a drown rat. The rest of the team had not faired much better. It was atrocious practice weather.  
  
"Just wait until winter ..." Corinna thought gloomily as she went to clean up and dry off a bit before she could join her friends for a much needed warm breakfast.  
  
"I'm going back to bed," she heard Sexton mutter on his way out of the locker room.  
  
The dull ache that had barely left her alone since she began her training made her long for her soft mattress as well, but she had so much to do. Breakfast, of course. Then she needed to visit the library and catch up her studying, which had been somewhat neglected due to the early evening practices she had endured the previous week.  
  
She could not figure out how the others managed it. Then she remembered David Clearwater and knew that they didn't always.  
  
"Not going to be me," she told herself fiercely as she tried to untangle her hair before going to breakfast.  
  
  
Martin had been waiting in the common room for nearly fifteen minutes when Olivia came down the stairs of the second year girls' dormitory carrying her shoes and yawning softly. He looked at her questioningly as she paused to slip the shoes on her feet.  
  
"Where's Sissy and Sophia?" he asked.  
  
"Still asleep," she shrugged.  
  
"Don't you think you ought to rouse them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.   
  
Olivia always found this somewhat comical as Martin most resembled his father when he did that.  
  
"No," she giggled, "I've already tried, but what with this horrid rain and all, nothing will pry them from their beds before eight o'clock at the earliest."  
  
"Then I suppose we had better go to breakfast then, or Corinna will be all alone," he said with a shrug.  
  
"Or eating with the team," Olivia offered, although she rather doubted it.  
  
  
Their route from the Aerie to the Great Hall required that they pass through the Entrance Hall of the school. Most mornings the great doors leading in and out of the castle were closed, especially in inclement weather so as to keep out the rain or the snow. But that morning as Martin and Olivia stepped into the hall, the doors were standing open and voices could be heard coming from outside, even above the soft sound of the rain, which had not ceased to fall.   
  
Olivia paused and looked at Martin for a moment with a question in her eyes: "Do you want to see what's going on?"  
  
Martin glanced toward the Great Hall and considered the unspoken inquiry for a moment before answering with a nod and a lop-sided smile.  
  
They crept toward the doors and peered outside. Three of the professors, the headmaster, and Ogg the Gamekeeper were standing near the bottom of the castle stairs under what appeared to be an Umbrellus Charm that prevented them from getting rained upon.  
  
"I don't think a fence would help very much, Ogg," said Headmaster Dippet in a placating tone of voice.  
  
"I'd had that goat for years! It were a goodly creature, professor. Its mother was here when Professor Dumbledore's brother was a student ..." said Ogg, who was obviously quite upset.  
  
"Never mind that," said Dumbledore quickly. Martin had to put his hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't laugh. That must have been _the_ goat that his uncle had been practicing charms on. "I am sorry about your goat, Ogg, but better it than a student," he said.  
  
"And we now have proof that a vampire is in the area," said Professor Kettleburn, who was one of the three professors present, which only made sense given his knowledge of magical creatures.  
  
"Or that someone is playing an elaborate and dangerous hoax on us," interjected Professor Krohn sourly. He was standing too close to the edge of the charm. His left shoulder and sleeve appeared to be soaking. The group had apparently been arguing for sometime.  
  
"I doubt that anyone would kill Ogg's goat just to play a prank on us," said Dippet.  
  
"Perhaps not," said Krohn with a dark scowl. He obviously believed it was possible.  
  
"We are sorry about this, Ogg, but there isn't much that we can do," said Dippet with a note of finality. "Catching vampires ... that is a tricky business."  
  
"Yes, sir," said Ogg, nodding his head. For a moment Olivia thought she could see tears in the tall wizard's eyes. "But I'll have a time of it explaining this to Hagrid," he added. "He's rather fond of animals, you know," said Ogg very sadly.  
  
"Of course," said Dumbledore, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Let's go," Martin hissed, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. His father had already given him a warning to pass along to Olivia.  
  
She nodded mutely, and they quickly made their way into the Great Hall to find Corinna and pass along the news.  
  
  
Martin and Olivia walked into the Great Hall and saw that Corinna was indeed eating alone. The rest of the team had either adjourned to the kitchen, a place often visited by the craftier older students, or to their dormitories, putting sleep before food in their list of priorities. The only other students present were Molly Earnshaw and Arthur Weasley at the Gryffindor table. She was wearing her Quidditch robes, presumably in preparation for her team's nine o'clock practice session. Or maybe just to impress Arthur, who wasn't on the team, but often joined Molly for breakfast nevertheless.  
  
"How was it?" asked Olivia as she sat down and watched Corinna dejectedly eating her bowl of cereal.  
  
"Wet and miserable," answered Corinna, looking up at Olivia and Martin, who had chosen a seat next to hers.  
  
"I can imagine," said Olivia as her breakfast appeared.  
  
"No, you can't," sighed Corinna, plucking at her hair, which was still more of a mess than usual.  
  
"Well, with any luck, I'll be out there with you next year," said Olivia, reaching across the table to poke her in the arm.  
  
"If I last that long ..." Corinna grumbled.  
  
"Not a premonition, I hope," joked Martin with a smile.  
  
"No," she admitted, quickly chuckling. They really knew how to make her feel better.  
  
"You won't believe what you missed because of your Quidditch practice and all ..." Olivia hinted with an almost wolfish look.  
  
They passed along the information they had garnered from the prefects the night before and from what they had just overheard outside, keeping their voices low all the while.  
  
"Then we should be safe for a while," hesitated Corinna, "since it's had a meal, I mean."  
  
"Probably," Olivia agreed with a rather mischievous look, one that Corinna recognized immediately.  
  
There would be trouble for them in the near future. She could depend on that. But she couldn't discourage Olivia. No one could really. So she just glanced at Martin and remained silent.  
  


* * *

A/N: Goat? What goat? Aberforth Dumbledore was once accused of practicing "inappropriate charms on a goat". I'm sorry, but the goat in question is now dead. Oh, for shame. (That was also one old goat; more than one Dumbledore, it seems, was interested in longevity.)  
  
  
HeeroTomoe: It wasn't an idiotic idea. If I had actually considered that prospect sooner, this story might have been very different. Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
  



	12. A night of terror, part I

Chapter Twelve  
  
A night of terror, part I  
  
  
  
From that morning in September when Ogg's goat was found dead with two telltale puncture wounds in its neck until the first week of October, there was no sign of the vampire. The prefect schedules for Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw houses remained the same -- patrols were conducted only in pairs after dark. But whenever Martin had lunch with his father, he could tell that Professor Dumbledore was no longer as concerned about the threat, that he believed or at least hoped that the vampire had moved on, but Martin didn't pursue the issue very far. When more than three weeks had passed without a single sighting, the five Ravenclaws began to feel safe again.  
  
Corinna began to adjust to the life of a Quidditch player. She still felt miserable when she crawled out of bed for weekend practices, but the regular afternoon practices no longer bothered her very much. They were simply part of life, nothing more nor less than that. She was managing her studies, although she sometimes wished that she had more time to spend in the library or just reading in the common room.  
  
And just as Sissy predicted, they earned back the points lost in the confrontation with the three Slytherins. Sissy earned extra points in defense, thanks to her superior knowledge of jinxes, although she suspected that it rather put Professor Knowles on his guard, so much so that she imagined that she would never be asked to demonstrate dueling techniques in his class ever again. But at least Chang, her partner for a second time, was a good sport about it.  
  
Sophia was likewise showing continued promise in potions' class where, had she been a Slytherin, she would have undoubtedly been Krohn's favorite pupil in her year. But how many other students consumed books on the subject with such voracity? If it had been allowed, Sophia would certainly have been brewing potions after hours when all of her housemates were relaxing or engaged in more trivial pursuits. But unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on the point of view, it was not permitted.  
  
Olivia was the only one who seemed a bit down as she was making surprising little headway in Transfigurations, which although not her favorite subject was one in which she had received decent marks the previous term. As it was, she could not manage to transfigure a strange muggle object, a rubber duck, into an actual living duck, which was considered a relatively simple non-living-to-living transfiguration. Corinna's duckling had actually quacked and attempted to fly. Olivia's attempt had resulted in a rather unsavory, moving, albeit rubbery, duck creature that had frightened some of her classmates. She was not eager to repeat that performance and was spending much of her free time in the library to prevent it.  
  
~  
  
It was a terrible thing, Corinna decided, to wake up in the middle of the night, on a Friday night no less, knowing that something dreadful was going to happen or perhaps had even already happened. She shivered and looked toward the bed opposite her own. Yes, Olivia was gone. And Corinna thought she knew why, for all the good it did her. Olivia was working on a Transfigurations essay and had fretted about not having time to go to the library to find a particular text to help her. Where was she then? Probably skulking around the library. And this was a very bad thing.  
  
"Sissy!" hissed Corinna in the near darkness, glancing toward the moon lit window.  
  
"Go to practice and leave us alone," groaned the other girl, turning onto her side.  
  
"Sophia!" said Corinna a bit more loudly.  
  
"Go back to sleep, please," mumbled Sophia more politely.  
  
Corinna was beginning to panic as she left her bed, tossed on a rumpled robe, and took her wand from the night stand. They were going to hate her for this, and she could hardly blame them.  
  
"_Lumos_!" she said, putting a lot of power into the spell.  
  
A brilliant flash lit the room, rousing Sissy and Sophia instantly.  
  
"What the devil!" yelled Sissy, shielding her eyes as she bolted upright with color in her pale cheeks.  
  
"Olivia is gone! And ... and something is going to happen to her!" said Corinna plaintively.  
  
Sissy and Sophia stared at her for a moment before dashing for their own robes and slippers. Corinna wasn't always right, but it was usually worth taking a chance that she was. Especially if it seemed this serious.  
  
"Do you know what?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Or where?" asked Sophia.  
  
"No, none of that ... only that ... that she's not in where she should be," said Corinna, indicating the empty bed. Her tone of voice urged them on as they grabbed their wands and tucked them away.  
  
They rushed from the dormitory to the common room and paused.  
  
"Are we going to the library? The kitchens? Where?" asked Sissy, who had a more strategic mind than the other two.  
  
"I don't know for certain ..." said Corinna, closing her eyes. "The library ... I think. But I cannot be absolutely sure," she said. She knew that Olivia would never pass up the opportunity for chocolate, especially so late at night when the house elves made it the best.  
  
"Oh, hell, we'll have to split up then," said Sissy.  
  
Then they heard a door creak open. They held their breaths, realizing only then that they had been talking very loudly.  
  
"What's the matter?" asked a low voice from the stairs.  
  
"Martin!" exclaimed Corinna.  
  
"Shush! You'll wake the whole tower," he cautioned them as he stepped from the shadows.  
  
"Olivia is out of the Aerie and ... Corinna says that something's going to happen to her," said Sophia quickly.  
  
"Right," he nodded, growing more somber, "just tell me what to do."  
  
"Sophia, you should go to the library," said Sissy. "Corinna and I will go to the kitchens," she decided, imagining Olivia with a 'borrowed' volume and a cup of something warm. "And in case she comes back here ..." Sissy began.  
  
"No!" Martin interrupted. "I want to help too!"  
  
"Then stand watch at the bottom of the tower," insisted Sissy, not wanting to drag a first year into a potentially hazardous situation.  
  
"I can go with Sophia!" pleaded Martin.  
  
"Sorry, but I'm going on the usual route, and prefects patrol almost half of it," said Sophia, glancing at the clock.   
  
It was only a quarter after eleven, although it felt like much later. They had gone to bed early so that they could have breakfast with Corinna as it cheered her up. The prefects would still be about, and Sophia imagined that she could talk her way out of a serious loss of points _if_ and only if she were caught alone.  
  
Corinna looked at Martin for a moment and said, "You're better off here. Remember what nearly happened ..."  
  
"Bollocks! Nothing happened!" said Martin, growing red in the face.  
  
"Stop it! You're just slowing us down," snapped Sissy. "Corinna, you are with me, and, Sophia, do be careful. You are only just adequate at defense," she reminded her.  
  
  
The halls were not so dark as they were after midnight, when the prefects doused some of the torches and everyone, even the caretaker and his apprentice, went to bed. But they were dark and deserted enough to make Sophia's heart pound as she ran stealthily and quietly toward the library, which was not particularly close to the Aerie, especially after the staircases went through their evening shift. Most inconvenient.  
  
She was almost regretting leaving Martin behind in a secluded nook not far from the tower stairs. It would have been nice not to be alone as she raced toward the library, which she knew would be dark and quite creepy after curfew.  
  
And there was the additional threat. If Olivia were in danger, didn't that mean the vampire was back in the castle? And didn't that mean that they were all in danger?  
  
"Why? Oh, why must she be so studious?" Sophia asked herself as she ran, keeping her ears pricked for sounds of the prefects ... or anything else.  
  
  
Sissy and Corinna made use of the secret passage that they had utilized during the misadventure at the beginning of the school term. This time Corinna didn't have a stitch in her side as they ran. She was momentarily grateful for her Quidditch training as she kept up with Sissy's long strides.  
  
They were nearly to the entrance to the kitchens when Corinna stopped and gasped.  
  
"We've got to turn around," she yelled at Sissy, disregarding their need for silence and secrecy.  
  
Sissy skidded to a halt, whirled around, and asked, "Why?"  
  
Corinna ran her hands through disheveled hair and tried to make sense of the premonitions she was getting. The whirl of images, colors, and feelings were never easy to make sense of. They were a muddle to her, as ever, but she made as much sense of it as she could.  
  
"Everything's changing ... We're changing everything ... We must get back to Martin," she said before taking off in the opposition direction, racing back toward the Aerie at full speed.  
  
Sissy had no choice but to follow her.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Sophia had reached the library without being seen by any of the prefects on duty that night. There was a quiet shuffling sound in the Transfigurations' section. She smiled with relief and drew her wand to cast a Lumos spell so she wouldn't trip over anything.  
  
"Olivia!" she called in a loud hiss when the sound of pages being turned stopped.  
  
"Sophia? What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" asked Olivia, emerging from the stacks with her own wand, and reading light, out.  
  
"Corinna thought you might be in trouble ..." said Sophia with a shrug.  
  
"Not yet ..." said Olivia, thinking she meant being caught out after hours. "I guess we should go back then," she sighed, looking longingly toward the shelves.  
  
"I'll help you with that essay, I promise, but right now we can't afford to linger here," said Sophia firmly.  
  
"I know, I know ..." sighed Olivia.  
  
"You haven't seen anything strange have you?" asked Sophia as they both walked toward the door.  
  
"Not especially. Should I have?"  
  
Just as Sophia reached to open the doors, they heard voices outside.  
  
"Oh, no ..." she groaned quietly, stepping away from the doors and dousing her wand with a quiet, "_Nox_!"  
  
Olivia followed suit, and they waited, holding their breaths.  
  
"And then the constable says, 'you blokes can't leave those brooms here!' and I says, 'but it'll only be for an hour,' and he looks at me real odd like ..." said the voice of the sixth year Hufflepuff prefect as he walked by with another prefect from his house.  
  
His voice soon faded into the distance.  
  
"That was close," said Olivia.  
  
"Tell me about it! We had better give them just a moment to pass by," said Sophia, taking a seat at the nearest table.  
  
  
When Sissy and Corinna reached the wall that when opened would take them back to the main corridor near the Aerie, Sissy had to pause and think. They had not returned that way since sometime in mid to late May. She frowned and pressed a stone, hoping it would be the one that was the trigger. Nothing. On this side there were no clues, only what intuition and memory could provide. Sissy always hated that.  
  
"And how did I become in charge of secret passageways and trick doors?" she asked herself as her frown deepened.  
  
"Hurry!" hissed Corinna plaintively.  
  
The urgency in her voice spurred Sissy on as she began pressing stones at random that seemed to be in the proper area. After a frantic moment or two, the wall slid open almost soundlessly.   
  
Sissy's heart was pounding in her ears as they took off again. She risked a sidelong glance at Corinna. She had always been somewhat pale, but even after their dash through the halls, Corinna remained almost ghostly white. Sissy wanted to ask what she had seen or what she knew, but Corinna was seldom very comfortable with details. Not even with small predictions. With something like this, she would be positively secretive.  
  
They didn't see anyone as they made their way back to the tower as quickly as they could. Sissy was more than a little surprised that they didn't encounter any of the three prefects out that night, but then why would two Hufflepuffs and a Slytherin patrol near the Aerie?  
  
When Sissy and Corinna rounded the last corner between them and the tower stairs, they saw two figures in the dim light. One was Martin, lying on his back on the cold stone floor of the corridor. The other was a black cloaked figure that was leaning over him, tucking its wand back into the folds of its heavy garment.  
  
Sissy had her wand in her hand before realizing anything more than Martin was in danger, without stopping to think, without screaming, without giving her or Corinna away.  
  
"_Contorqueo_!" Sissy shouted with all of her strength after taking careful aim at the vampire.  
  
The spell was one that she had discovered in a third year defense text from fifty years earlier. She had always liked the sound of the incantation and had been wanting very much to try it, although she had had those irksome Slytherin boys in mind. She had savored the mental image of Black or one of his friends being thrown the length of a corridor.  
  
Of course, she had not cast the hurling spell on a mere third year student nor on an ordinary mortal. The vampire did not whiz through the air, but he was knocked back a few feet and away from Martin, who Sissy noticed was not moving.  
  
The vampire hissed at them, but he could see that he was facing two determined young witches who were obviously not afraid to fight him. And Sissy imagined that the skinny boy on the floor did not seem worth the trouble to him in face of those odds.  
  
They both gasped out loud as he transfigured into a bat and swooped down the hallway, but fortunately away from them.  
  
"Check him; check Martin," said Sissy, keeping her wand raised. She wasn't letting her guard down nor taking any chances.  
  
Corinna tucked her wand away and felt her mouth go dry. Sissy grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her forward with a hard, impatient expression. Corinna knelt on the floor, feeling the cold seeping through her robes at the knees.  
  
"Martin?" she questioned, shaking him fervently by the shoulders. A thousand horrible thoughts ran through her mind. She could only wonder which ones, if any, would prove to be true.  
  
"Is he breathing?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Yes," she said with a nod.  
  
"Has he been bitten?"  
  
Corinna's hands were shaking as she checked his neck for fang marks. There were none that she could find.  
  
"No," she answered, glancing up at Sissy, who was towering above them as she stood watch.  
  
"Wrists," said Sissy curtly. "Vampires can take blood from more places than just the jugular," she added as Corinna looked confused.  
  
The other girl only nodded and rolled up his sleeves. Nothing again. She breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"He's not bitten," Corinna insisted.  
  
"Good. Try rousing him again. It's not safe to stay here," said Sissy.  
  
"He won't wake up," said Corinna, shaking her head. "We have to get him to the hospital wing. The vampire might have hurt him somehow," she said insistently.  
  
"I have to be ready in case that thing comes back. And I don't think either of us could manage a levitation spell that far alone. Certainly not Mobilicorpus. We just ... don't have the experience," said Sissy, sounding quite frustrated, but rather sure of her assessment of the situation too.  
  
Suddenly they heard hurried footsteps coming from the direction of the library. Sissy swung around and steeled herself for the worst. Later she realized that this was quite absurd.  
  
"Sophia! Olivia!" cried Sissy in surprise. She felt a great deal better seeing them as they rounded the corner.  
  
"What happened to Martin?" asked Sophia, dashing past Sissy and kneeling with Corinna.  
  
"The vampire ..." said Sissy ominously.  
  
Olivia took her cue from Sissy and removed her wand from the pocket of her robes. She looked around nervously as though expecting it to step out of the shadows and attack them.  
  
"Someone has to go for help," said Sophia. That much was obvious to her.  
  
"No one goes alone," said Sissy sharply.  
  
Sophia scrambled to her feet and took Olivia by the arm.  
  
"We saw some prefects not so long ago. We'll try and get them to help us," said Sophia. Her voice was confident, but the fear and horror were easy to see in her dark, expressive eyes.  
  
"And there'll be hell to pay," said Olivia.  
  
"Thanks to you!" Sissy hissed, unable to contain the outburst.  
  
Olivia opened her mouth, but closed it without making a sound. She nodded and hung her head before rushing away with Sophia, who seemed to know what she was doing and where she was going.  
  
"That wasn't necessary," commented Corinna quietly.  
  
"But true nevertheless," said Sissy, glowering down at her.  
  
Corinna brushed a few stray locks of auburn hair away from Martin's face as she tried to think of something to say to that. His skin was very cool to the touch. That worried her quite a bit.  
  
Sissy just glowered harder for a moment and said, "I'll apologize later. It just slipped out. None of us would be out here if not for Olivia. If something has happened to Martin because of her ..."  
  
"He'll be fine," Corinna cut in almost desperately.  
  
"I certainly hope so," said Sissy, biting her lower lip as she looked up and down the corridor anxiously.  
  
  
Olivia was holding back tears as she followed behind Sophia, who had set a brisk pace, although she didn't have a specific destination in mind. Olivia couldn't help but sniffle a bit after what Sissy had said. They were all in danger and Martin was hurt because she couldn't wait to get a silly book from the library. Olivia felt horrible.  
  
"We should have tried carrying him to the hospital wing," said Sophia, shaking her head as she slowed to a jog and glanced over her shoulder at Olivia, who was beginning to trial behind.  
  
"Maybe," said Olivia softly.  
  
"You shouldn't take what Sissy said to heart. We all thought it was safe. We were talking about raiding the kitchens again, weren't we?" said Sophia.  
  
"But I'm the only one who was stupid enough to leave the tower ..." said Olivia, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Stupid? I don't believe that," snorted Sophia.  
  
Just then they heard voices ahead of them in the hallway. They quickened their pace.  
  
What happened next can only be described as fate, or more bad luck than any two people, meaning Sophia and Olivia, should ever have, especially in a single night.  
  
They dashed heedlessly around the corner, in the direction of the voices, and slammed into two significantly larger individuals, landing in a disorganized heap in the floor. Sophia almost instantly found herself in a position that muggles referred to as a 'head-lock' while Olivia was forcibly restrained against the floor with one arm pinned behind her back.  
  
"Bloody hell! It's students," said the person that had instinctively grappled with Sophia, loosening his grip.  
  
Olivia turned her head to see Professor Dumbledore, who glasses were slightly askew. He seemed to blush, much in the same way as his son, as he released Olivia and helped her to her feet with a murmured apology.  
  
"Cyrus ..." said Dumbledore, giving his younger colleague an unpleasant look as he left Sophia on the floor.  
  
Professor Knowles narrowed his eyes and grudgingly gave her a hand up.  
  
"I suppose you two realized that you are in very serious trouble," said Knowles in a toneless voice.  
  
"It's Martin," Olivia blurted out. "The vampire ..."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes widened in concern and he asked, "My son? Is he hurt? Has he been bitten?"  
  
"No, sir, I don't think so, but we can't wake him up. He's at the bottom of Ravenclaw Tower with Sissy and Corinna," said Olivia, wiping her stinging eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
"This does not seem good," stated Knowles.  
  
But Dumbledore was already hurrying in the direction of the tower with his wand drawn. He was wasting no time.  
  
"Come on," instructed Knowles, taking off after the professor.  
  
Sophia and Olivia were quick to follow, but they had very little choice really.  
  
  
Corinna looked up when she heard the sound of someone fast approaching. Sissy had her wand ready again, but she wasn't as jumpy as before. She was just worried about Martin. He was still unconscious, and neither of them could think of anything to do for him.  
  
When Corinna saw Professor Dumbledore she clambered none too gracefully to her feet. She was almost afraid of what the older professor would say or do if his son were injured. Then she remembered how Dumbledore had believed them about the vampire. Surely he wouldn't blame them for this.  
  
The professor didn't pay them any attention as he raced to his son. For a moment Corinna was certain that he had not even seen the rest of them. He checked Martin's throat just as Sissy had instructed her to do. The professor breathed a soft sigh of relief and tried to awaken Martin.  
  
As he was doing so Corinna glanced down the hall to see Professor Knowles, Olivia, and Sophia jogging toward them. The defense professor had slowed to his steps to allow the girls to keep up, not wanting to leave them behind with a vampire on the loose.  
  
"What's wrong with him, professor?" asked Corinna hesitantly as Dumbledore glanced up at her.  
  
"A simple sleeping spell, I think. The vampire probably just wanted to keep him quiet," answered Dumbledore grimly. He lifted Martin in his arms as he stood. "You should come to the hospital wing with us," he said, looking at all four of the girls.  
  
"You won't need me then," said Knowles. "I plan to do a little hunting," he added, raising his wand in an antiquated salute.  
  
"Be careful, Cyrus," urged Dumbledore before taking off toward the hospital wings with the four Ravenclaws in tow.  
  


* * *

A/N: At some point I think I promised action in this story. This chapter was fulfilling a bit of that promise.  
  
  
HeeroTomoe: Aww... Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter. Writing about Quidditch is really fun.  
  
  



	13. A night of terror, part II

Chapter Thirteen  
  
A night of terror, part II  
  
  
  
The hospital wing was dark when Professor Dumbledore entered carrying his son in his arms, but the lights flared and sprang to life through some unseen force that gave Corinna a bit of a thrill. Wandless magic, she surmised. It had made Dumbledore something of a legend as it was a power that few witches or wizards possessed.   
  
At that moment an aura of power that was normally well disguised seemed to radiate from the professor of Transfigurations. All of the girls, not just Corinna, could sense it as they hurried after him into the hospital wing. Then, as quickly as it had come, the aura was gone and Professor Dumbledore was just a worried father with an injured child in his arms.  
  
Dumbledore carefully deposited Martin on a hospital bed before turning to Sophia, and she had no idea why he chose her, telling her, "Go and fetch Madam Pomfrey. I imagine she's sleeping."   
  
He pointed her toward a little hallway that lead to the hospital wing office and back to the mediwitch's quarters. She nodded and went swiftly to do as he asked.  
  
"Sir?" questioned Corinna timidly. "Couldn't you just say a counter spell or something?"  
  
Olivia and Sissy had been wondering much the same thing since Dumbledore had announced that only a sleeping spell had been cast on his son.  
  
"Have you ever been told not to wake a sleepwalker, Miss Bellew?" he asked.  
  
"Er, yes, sir, I believe I have," she replied in an uncertain tone.  
  
"This is much the same thing. He will awaken naturally by morning, if not sooner, or Madam Pomfrey will recommend a course of action, such as a cordial or other draught," explained Dumbledore patiently as he took seat on the edge on the bed where Martin was sleeping. The professor took his son's hand and gave it a tender squeeze.  
  
"This is my hospital wing, professor, and you will not be giving out prescriptions, no matter what time of night it is," said the crisp, forceful voice of Madam Pomfrey as she emerged from the office area with Sophia just behind her. Her voice softened as she asked, "What's happened?"  
  
"Our intruder cast a sleeping spell on him, I believe," answered Dumbledore, who found young Poppy's brusque manner oddly comforting.  
  
"Then he was very lucky," she said as she walked around the bed to have a proper look at Martin.  
  
The girls lingered as close as they dared, but knew that it was only a matter of time before Pomfrey threw them out.  
  
"Yes, very," said Professor Dumbledore, looking at the quartet of Ravenclaws.   
  
Olivia glanced away guiltily and blinked back tears.  
  
"I'll give him a potion, if Reynard has it in stock. We don't keep that sort of thing up here. He needs it more than I do ... usually ... for when the brewing of sleeping draughts goes amiss and so forth," Madam Pomfrey informed him.  
  
"You had better contact him by floo. Cyrus is tracking the vampire at the moment ... and it may not be safe in the corridors," Dumbledore told the mediwitch.  
  
"Thank you for the warning, professor," she said with a grim look before retreating to her office as quickly as she had come.  
  
"It can wait, of course, but would any of you care to tell me what happened?" asked Dumbledore, turning toward the young witches again.  
  
"It would have been so nice to have had five minutes or so to get our stories straight," thought Sissy with a little sigh.  
  
"It's my fault. I left the dormitories to get a book from the library ..." Olivia started. Her shoulders were shaking. It required everything she had within her not to break down and cry. "I just meant to be gone for a few minutes ..." she sniffed.  
  
Professor Dumbledore gestured for her to be silent.  
  
"Miss Scarrow, I assure you that very little harm has been done," he said in a calm manner. And he believed it, though it was admittedly a close call.  
  
Of course, he knew his son, or liked to think so, and knew that no one could have forced Martin to leave the safety of the tower unless he had chosen to do so. Martin, much like his mother, could be very obstinate at times.  
  
"Yes, sir," she said reluctantly. Her eyes drifted toward Martin.  
  
"Actually, it was sort of my fault that Martin left the tower too," said Corinna miserably. She was going to take the blame for Sissy and Sophia too, but knew they would never allow it. "I talked everyone into looking for Olivia," she added before Dumbledore could ask.  
  
"And the three of us talking in the common room woke Martin up," said Sophia.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his spectacles.  
  
"We aren't assigning blame. I believe I shall be leaving that task to Professor Knowles as he enjoys it so. I merely wish to ascertain what happened," said Dumbledore with the barest hint of impatience in his voice.  
  
Sissy made something of a face and said, "The three of us split up to look for Olivia, knowing she would either be in the library or kitchens. We left Martin at the bottom of the tower in case Olivia should come back ..."  
  
"Wait a minute;" said Dumbledore, "there's something I don't quite understand. You were acting as though Olivia were in danger. Were you not?"  
  
Sissy shifted uncomfortably and deferred the question to the other girls. They all turned toward Corinna, who was staring at her slippers as though they were the most fascinating things in the world. The silence grew heavy.  
  
"You've got to tell him," said Sophia gently.  
  
"I know ..." said Corinna, looking up with a frown. She took a deep breath. "I know things," she said, hoping that it would be enough.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"I know things ... sometimes. Or I think I do. I thought Olivia was in danger, so I got Sissy and Sophia out of bed to go look for her," said Corinna.  
  
Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully and said, "You sometimes know the future?"  
  
"Yes," she nodded, not wishing to look him in the eye.  
  
"Quite extraordinary," he said softly.  
  
"But I was wrong. Nothing happened to Olivia," said Corinna. "We did something to change that, putting Martin in danger instead," she added unhappily. She had never wanted that, though she had wanted very much to protect Olivia.  
  
"You can hardly be faulted for wanting to save your friend from danger," said Dumbledore. It was a very Gryffindor sentiment. Corinna shrugged, not knowing what to say to that. "Now, Martin was left at the bottom of the tower ..." he prompted.  
  
"Sophia went to the library and found Olivia. Corinna and I were on our way to the kitchens when she got another premonition and we turned back. We found Martin lying where he was when you came, but the vampire was standing over him," said Sissy with a shiver that she hoped the professor did not notice.  
  
"You saw it then?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes, but it was rather dark. I didn't get a very good look at it," answered Sissy with a solemn frown. "I didn't have time," she added.  
  
"Why not?" asked Sophia, who had been trapped in the library during this portion of the adventure.  
  
"She was too busy hexing it across the corridor," answered Corinna, brightening just a bit at the memory. She had been very impressed.  
  
"It wasn't exactly a hex," said Sissy, coloring slightly and pursing her lips. She wasn't especially keen on telling the professor that she was practicing such things, minor curses and the like, in her spare time.  
  
"You drove it away?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes, and it changed into a rather large bat and flew away ... down the corridor, I mean," she explained. Sissy did not particularly care to brag about driving it away. To do so would be unseemly.  
  
"I am impressed," said Dumbledore. "There are few students who could keep their wits about them in such circumstances," he added with a deferential nod.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," called Madam Pomfrey as she returned to the ward, "Reynard isn't answering his fireplace."  
  
"He doesn't like to be disturbed at night, but he will usually answer if only for the pleasure of giving the person trying to contact him a piece of his mind," said Dumbledore with a thoughtful frown. He looked more than just a little worried as did the mediwitch.  
  
Of course, the students would never know what the two staff members were planning to do about the situation as at that moment the doors to the hospital wing flew open, extracting a startled shriek from Madam Pomfrey and causing everyone, except sleeping Martin, to start.  
  
Reynard Krohn stepped through the doors, which he had unceremoniously kicked open. He had his wand gripped tightly in his right hand and a student slung over his left shoulder. Perspiration was running down his face. His expression was one of mixed strain and unmitigated panic.  
  
"Thank God! Poppy! You're awake!" he gasped, striding into the hospital wing. "It's Andrea Zabini. He was attacked ... bitten by a vampire while he was on his rounds," continued Krohn as he settled the semiconscious student onto a bed. Zabini groaned in protest and in pain. "We have to do something before the transformation is complete!" he said, turning to look at Poppy as she hurried over to the bed.  
  
"If he's been bitten, then there's nothing that can be done," said Pomfrey.  
  
"Blood purification? An antidote? An infusion of some kind?" asked Krohn rapidly, firing one suggestion after another.  
  
"There is no cure," said Poppy firmly.  
  
Sissy stood on her tip-toes to watch. Her stomach turned as she saw a smear of blood on Zabini's neck. The source? Two close set puncture wounds. She turned away quickly.  
  
"But something must be done," argued Krohn, running his hands through his mop of blond hair. "He is becoming a vampire," he said as though the mediwitch had not grasped that crucial fact.  
  
Sophia stepped closer, curious and unable to look away as Sissy had done. Zabini's skin, normally a healthy olive hue much like her own, had turned to pale white, but his lips were as red as blood. He was changing. His mouth opened as he moaned aloud in pain and discomfort, revealing two sharp fangs that appeared to be growing before her very eyes.  
  
"Do something!" shouted Krohn, flailing his arms in desperation.  
  
"I can't!" Pomfrey told him sharply. "There is nothing that can be done for him. He is a vampire now."  
  
Krohn bowed his head and passed a trembling hand over his eyes. For a brief moment Sophia thought that he was going to break down and weep.  
  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled," he said in a soft, but strained voice, taking deep and calming breaths.  
  
"It's all right," said Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"And nothing can be done? Not even to make him more comfortable?" asked Krohn, reaching down to grasp Zabini's hand.  
  
"We will need to take him to the dungeons before dawn or else block the windows," said Poppy, "but nothing more can be done. A sleeping potion might help, but I don't know if we have anything strong enough to work on a vampire."  
  
"And I must contact his parents ..." said Krohn, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "He probably won't be allowed to stay. It's so dangerous ... and how could he possibly cope?" said Krohn to himself.  
  
"We had a vampire in the student body when I was in school," commented Professor Dumbledore. "It is possible for them to live relatively normal lives, if they want to do so," he added.  
  
Krohn looked over his shoulder in surprise. He had scarcely noticed that Albus was present. His eyes drifted to the small figure on the bed where his colleague was seated. He swallowed hard. The older man was his rival, or so Krohn believed, but he couldn't help to feel a twinge of compassion as he looked at the professor's son lying there so pale and still.  
  
"Was he ...?" Krohn began to ask anxiously.  
  
"No, but it was a near thing," admitted Dumbledore.  
  
"I should go and find that sleeping potion," said Poppy, watching Zabini twitch as his body underwent incredible and painful changes.  
  
"And Armando and Filius should be contacted," said Dumbledore, reluctantly leaving his son's side to walk with Poppy into the office area.  
  
"Of course," she agreed.  
  
"And Cyrus ... must check on Cyrus," Dumbledore mumbled mostly to himself, shaking his head.  
  
This left the girls alone with Professor Krohn, who was still agitated, sleeping Martin, and Andrea Zabini, the seventh year prefect, whose skin has lost the last of its pigmentation, leaving him a ghostly white.  
  
Corinna and Sissy didn't want to look at Zabini. It was too frightening. But for a few seconds that would have been Martin. The two girls glanced at one another and stepped nearer to Martin's bed. They had considered him pale earlier, but compared to Zabini, his skin was almost rosy. Corinna reached up and took a blanket from the shelf above the bed and spread it over Martin with a little assistance from Sissy. It was chilly in the hospital wing. Or maybe they were imagining the cold.  
  
Sophia and Olivia merely stayed out of the way, glancing hesitantly toward Krohn from time to time. None of them knew Zabini, but it was impossible not to see the prefects around the castle, identified by their badges. It occurred to Olivia that she had seen him often enough laughing happily with his friends in the corridors.  
  
Sophia, as she watched them, student and professor, unobtrusively, was not surprised to see the careful concern on Krohn's normally impassive face. She knew that he cared for his own students a great deal. She glanced away for a moment as Krohn smoothed his student's hair and hushed him softly. It seemed too personal, too private somehow, like they shouldn't be there or shouldn't be observing what was happening.  
  
"What are all of you doing here? Shouldn't you be in your dormitories?" asked Krohn, looking over at the girls as though seeing them there for the first time.  
  
"We came with Martin," answered Sophia. It was a simple answer and quite true.  
  
"It seems that the five of you can't stay out of trouble," he said flatly. "Or he can't and the rest of you get taken along for the ride."  
  
"Yes, sir," said Sophia.  
  
"I suppose he's lucky in that respect, if I understand what went on tonight," said Krohn, clenching and unclenching his fists.  
  
Sophia nodded mutely as he glanced down at Andrea again.  
  
"This is my fault ..." Krohn said softly.  
  
The girls all exchanged glances as he said that. In the quiet hospital wing his voice carried. And they knew all too well what he meant. He had opted not to go along with Dumbledore's safety precautions. He had sent his prefects out alone. Sophia had thought it was pure arrogance, but there was no point in saying that now. Krohn was already beginning to lose his composure, and the presence of four second year students from a rival house was the only thing, she imagined, that kept him from losing it entirely. He was too proud to go to pieces with such witnesses.  
  
"Nonsense, Reynard," said Professor Dippet, who had just walked into the hospital wing from the direction of Pomfrey's office.   
  
The headmaster was wearing a navy blue dressing gown and conservative slippers. He didn't look sleepy or even disheveled in the least, but he had surely been called from bed and had taken the floo from his quarters to the infirmary offices. Few students knew that their headmaster kept later hours than most.  
  
Dippet strode quickly across the wing to stand with Krohn by the bed side of Zabini. The older wizard put a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder.  
  
"You couldn't know this would happen. I was beginning to have doubts myself. The other heads were going to go back to the old schedule in two weeks without another sighting. This has taken us all very much by surprise," he assured Krohn.  
  
"Will he be expelled?"  
  
"The board of governors may insist ..." said Dippet with a perturbed look.   
  
They had been trying to get rid of Dippet himself for more than five years because of his advanced age, but without success as he had the confidence of most parents and much of the wizarding community at large.  
  
"I understand," said Professor Krohn with a barely perceptible nod.  
  
"No, you don't, my boy, but that's good of you to say given the circumstances," said Professor Dippet.  
  
"But you will try? Zabini finishes up in the spring ..."  
  
"I will do what I can," agreed Dippet with a very determined look on his face.  
  
He then turned and looked at the four girls, who were watching with some interest as he spoke with Krohn. He frowned at them.  
  
"This is the least likely crowd of troublemakers I've ever seen. Ravenclaws, one and all," he said, shaking his head. Behind the sadness in his intelligent brown eyes, they could see a spark of humor. Or was it pride that he could express no other way?  
  
"Troublemakers? Isn't that a little harsh, Armando?" asked Filius Flitwick, who had just arrived. He had taken the trouble to dress. Or else he had not yet retired for the night. It was nearly midnight.  
  
"Perhaps," Armando agreed with a nod to his fellow Ravenclaw.  
  
"I would arrange an escort back to the dormitories for all you, but Professor Dumbledore says that he may have additional questions ..." Flitwick shrugged apologetically to the quartet.  
  
"Of course," said Corinna softly with a troubled, knowing look in her eyes.  
  
"Any word on Knowles? Dumbledore indicated that he went after the vampire," said Krohn, looking rather expectantly at Flitwick.  
  
Both Dippet and Flitwick looked bothered by the notion. Knowles' enthusiasm for his job and subject matter could hardly be questioned. He had volunteered as an Auror during the war with Grindelwald, and some of his deeds were still worthy of renown, although he had been badly injured in the final years of conflict and forced into an early retirement. He was still very willing to do dangerous things, and on his own time too, which made him unpredictable. And to a pair of aging Ravenclaws like the headmaster and Charms' professor, 'unpredictable' also meant 'reckless', which was not a good thing, not even in a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  
  
"Not that I am aware of," answered Flitwick nervously.  
  
"He has gone into the Forbidden Forest, I'm afraid. I just contacted Ogg and he spotted tracks, two sets of them, leading into the trees," said Dumbledore as he entered the room with Madam Pomfrey, who had a sleeping draught for Zabini, although the young man was resting quietly and appeared not to need it any longer.  
  
"The Forest? At night? Is he mad?" exclaimed Professor Flitwick in a slightly shrill voice.  
  
"Possibly," Dumbledore conceded, "but in any case, a search party should be formed. Ogg is rousing Hagrid, Mister Pringle, and Filch."  
  
"Isn't that a bit premature?" asked the headmaster, who seemed perhaps a bit put off by the fact that he had not been consulted in the matter. "Knowles is an expert in defense," he reminded his deputy.  
  
"The forest is not a healthy place for anyone at night," countered Dumbledore.  
  
"Perhaps you're right, Albus," nodded Dippet a bit tiredly, "but I don't intend to lose half of the staff out there. Everyone must exercise caution."  
  
"Everyone?" asked Krohn as he watched Poppy administer the potion to Andrea. "Some of us have even less pleasant duties to perform. Mister Zabini's parents ..." he said, closing his eyes for a moment as he spoke.  
  
"Of course, Reynard, and send my condolences as well. I'm afraid I cannot get in touch with them until morning at this rate," said the headmaster with an understanding nod. He turned to Dumbledore and added, "And you should stay with your son. He'll be frightened when he wakes up."  
  
"Thank you," nodded Albus, "but I believe we shall return before he awakens; however, I have some other business ... with Filius' students that should not keep me long."  
  
Sissy's heart sank when she heard that. All four of the students in question had been watching and listening unobtrusively to all that was going on. It was rather fascinating, in a morbid way, but now Sissy imagined that it was time to discuss their punishments.  
  
"I understand," said Flitwick with a shrewd look at the young witches. He paused as he looked at Corinna. "Miss Bellew, consider yourself excused from tomorrow ... this morning's practice session. I will see to that Mister Ambrose knows that you will not attend."  
  
"Am I off the team, sir?" she asked before thinking better of it.  
  
"No, not as of yet," he said, "but it seems rather unfair to send you out there after a night like this."  
  
"Thank you," said Corinna quietly.  
  
"Does that mean you will be helping with the search, Filius?" asked Dippet.  
  
"It does," he said, sounding not at all enthusiastic.  
  
"Very good. We shall meet the others down at Ogg's in, let's say, fifteen minutes?" asked Dippet, plucking at his dressing gown. He had to change before he could go carousing through the Forbidden Forest.  
  
"Certainly," agreed Flitwick.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: I really didn't like chopping this chapter up into two pieces, but I wanted all of the chapters to be roughly the same size.  
  
HeeroTomoe: Yes, I think I do have a bit of a soft spot for them; they are the most human of the characters, I think. And I wanted the vampire to be more of a classic vampire than a Buffy-the-Vampire-Slayer style fiend. Maybe I read too many cheesy horror stories as a kid. lol. Thank you for the review!  
  
silversea: Thank you! I'll try to update regularly.  
  
  



	14. The last of the night

Chapter Fourteen  
  
The last of the night  
  
  
  
It was just moments before the hospital wing had been cleared of professors. Only Dumbledore remained behind, though it was certainly his intention to join his colleagues in their search for Professor Knowles and, by extension, the vampire who had invaded the castle. Madam Pomfrey had retreated into her office to locate a book on vampire nutrition, for the sake of Andrea Zabini, that was leftover from the days of her predecessor.  
  
Dumbledore, sitting down next to Martin again, beckoned for the girls to come closer.  
  
"This is about me, isn't it?" asked Corinna, referring to the business that Dumbledore supposedly had with them.  
  
"Yes," answered the professor, "I wanted you to speak with someone about your gift."  
  
"It's not a gift," said Corinna quickly and fiercely.  
  
Sissy put a hand on her shoulder and said, "He's right ... It is a gift, Corinna, or it could be if you learn to use it properly."  
  
The door to the hospital wing opened soundlessly behind them, but Corinna turned as she felt the cool breeze.  
  
She had seen the professor who stood there perhaps three times since she had come to Hogwarts. He was shorter than most of the other professors, and older than any of them, save perhaps Armando Dippet. He was also balding, which was very noticeable as he never wore a hat, unless venturing out of doors in the dead of winter. He was the reclusive sort, according to what she had heard. And when other students talked about him, she listened. He was the professor of Divinations.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," he said in greeting, smiling so that both cheeks dimpled.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and said, "Professor Mallaghan, so formal ..."  
  
"You've called me out of bed at an indecent hour of the morning. It must be important," he said with an Irish accent that had faded through years of living in England, Scotland, and farther abroad.  
  
"I think have found a student who possesses the Inner Eye," said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows just slightly.  
  
Mallaghan brightened at this and said, "Oh? Have you now?" He turned his attention to the four girls, all but one of whom were watching him with interest, though they did appear to be rather sleepy too. The one who did not seem interested was doing her best to keep her gaze directed at the floor. "Look up, lass," instructed Mallaghan in a quiet, but friendly voice.  
  
Corinna did so almost unwillingly.  
  
"Joseph?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
"Well, it isn't stamped in bright red letters across her forehead, but I would wager that she has a talent," said Mallaghan, "but I would want to talk with her a bit to be certain."  
  
"Miss Bellew, would you care to ..." Dumbledore began to ask.  
  
"No, I'd rather not," said Corinna very quickly.  
  
Mallaghan chuckled and ambled over to her. His gait was a shuffling one and slow, but he gave the impression of an underlying energy that was almost youthful in nature. He had the proverbial spring in his step.  
  
"That's all right," he said to Corinna, "but you may find in time that the talent becomes a burden. You might want to share that burden with someone so that it isn't so heavy." His gray eyes held a soft, understanding expression in them.  
  
Corinna swallowed hard as his words struck a nerve. The so-called talent was already a burden. Would become worse as she grew older? Could it really?  
  
"I meant ... not tonight. I'm very tired, sir," she amended.  
  
"Of course you are. I've heard that there has been a bit o' excitement tonight that hasn't been rivaled in ... in nearly a dozen years," said Mallaghan, shifting his gaze toward the bed where Martin was sleeping and then to the one that contained a heavily sedated vampire. "'Tis a shame," he said in a low voice.  
  
"That it is," agreed Dumbledore with a slow nod.  
  
"Are you busy tomorrow afternoon, lass?" Joseph questioned.  
  
Corinna shuffled her feet and said, "I have some studying to do and an essay to write and a bit of reading ..."  
  
"I'll only need you for an hour or so," he assured her.  
  
She couldn't think of a good excuse, and Olivia gave her an encouraging nudge. She shot her a glare that Mallaghan could not miss.  
  
"All right ..." she said reluctantly.  
  
For a moment she wondered why they simply didn't force her to go. It was well within their power. Then she realized that neither Dumbledore nor Mallaghan worked in that fashion.  
  
"Three o'clock sharp in my office then. It's in the North Tower, near the top. You shouldn't have any trouble finding it," he said with a reassuring smile. "Now I'm going back to bed before Armando and those wee ones out there raise a fuss," he said to Dumbledore.  
  
"Of course, Joseph. Any words of wisdom before you go?" asked Dumbledore curiously. He was quite serious as he had learned that one could often cajole useful information and other things out of Mallaghan in just that manner.  
  
Joseph paused and said, "That wife of yours ... never mind, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, as did Sissy and Sophia, who were a bit scandalized by his tone. He walked to the door and turned again. "You're all such sweet children," he said before ambling off down the hall.  
  
Dumbledore had the uncomfortable notion that he was included in that statement.  
  
"I'll escort you all to your tower," he said, leaving his son's bed side.  
  
The girls all looked at Martin and then at him. Sissy was the only one brave enough, or impertinent enough, to say something.  
  
"Perhaps you ought to stay here, professor. When he wakes up ... Martin shouldn't be alone."  
  
"I'm glad he has friends like all of you, but the spell won't wear off naturally for quite some time now," he said with a smile. "And I imagine all of you could use some sleep tonight," Dumbledore added.  
  
Of course he wanted to stay there with Martin. He wanted to owl his wife too, just in case there was something in _The Daily Prophet_ the next day. He didn't fancy a Howler from the woman. The very idea was enough to give him chills. But there were things to be done. Duties to be performed. All of that. As he observed the young witches give his son sympathetic glances, he wished that he could just be a family man for the night and not the deputy headmaster.  
  
"Come along," he said to the girls as they left the hospital wing. He would return to his son well before dawn.  
  
  
Dumbledore left the girls at the portrait hole where _Gentleman in his Study_ was asleep at the writing desk with his head resting on his arms and a copy of a book of poetry at his elbow. They waited until the professor had gone to wake the portrait.  
  
"Sir?" said Sophia quietly.  
  
"Hmm?" asked the Gentleman, raising his head and looking at them. "Great Scot! Ladies, what ever are you doing out of the tower at this time of night?" he questioned, sitting up and smoothing his hair. He had not noticed them on their way out earlier.  
  
"That's rather complicated," said Olivia, who was still feeling guilty about the whole affair.  
  
"In that case, I don't think I should know about it. Complicated things are seldom half so scandalous they appear. Password?" he asked with a pointed and disapproving look.  
  
"Alexandria," said Sissy shortly.  
  
"Very good," he said as he allowed them into the common room.  
  
They trudged up to their dormitory without another word. The excitement of the night had faded, leaving them exhausted and anxious. So much had happened that they had not expected. Martin ... Zabini ... The search that was going on out in the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night ... Sissy peered out the window for a moment as she thought about it. She could see flashes in the darkness outside as their window faced part of the forest. Sparks went up: signals.  
  
"What is it?" asked Sophia, noticing Sissy looking out of the window.  
  
"The search party ... I hope they find that thing and destroy it," she said in an even voice. "Then we would be safe again," she added more quietly.  
  
"Maybe they will," said Sophia, glancing at Corinna who was already climbing into bed.  
  
"I don't know," she said flatly.  
  
Olivia glanced out the window as red sparks flashed high above the trees, almost like muggle fireworks.  
  
Sissy turned to her and said, "This really isn't _all_ your fault, you know. If you hadn't been out, there would have still been the prefects. Zabini would still have been bitten. And we wouldn't know about any of it."  
  
That was as close to an apology as she would get out of Sissy Howard, and Olivia knew it. But she didn't feel as though she deserved it.  
  
"Thanks," she murmured as Sissy pulled the curtains.  
  
"To bed," she instructed Sophia and Olivia.  
  
"As if we'll be able to sleep," said Corinna in a morose mutter.  
  
Sophia nodded in silent agreement as she put out the light and slipped into bed. After all of that ... it was going to be a long night, what remained out it. She could still see the flickering lights outside through the curtains. But at least they were safe now, even Martin in the hospital wing.  
  
  
The sky overhead was changing from black to gray when Armando Dippet sent Professor Dumbledore back to the castle to be with his son. The aging headmaster's great-great grandson had graduated just four years earlier, so he understood family matters all too well. The faculty's search for Professor Knowles was not going very well. But the forest was quite large, dense, and dangerous. Caution was necessary, and that slowed their efforts nearly as much as the darkness itself. Dumbledore was filled with doubt as he walked across the misty grounds to the castle. What had his young colleague and former student been thinking?  
  
"That he would be a hero if he apprehended the vampire," said the professor out loud as he let himself into the school. "And to think, he doubted its very existence just a month ago," he added silently as he stepped into the Entrance Hall.  
  
Beatrice Vector and young Agatha Sprout were waiting just inside, each clutching a cup of hot breakfast tea. Dippet had insisted that they could not join the search as neither were especially good at that sort of work -- chasing vampires and running around the Forbidden Forest. Both had objected quite strenuously, and Beatrice had nearly called the headmaster a misogynist, but had held her tongue. So instead of returning to their chambers, they had stubbornly remained awake, awaiting the results of the other professors' long night's work.  
  
"Albus, have they ..." Vector began to ask with a concerned expression.  
  
"Not yet," he replied. "I've only come back because of Martin," he added by way of explanation.  
  
"Of course," said Beatrice with an understanding look. She had been Dumbledore's student only a few years before the Grindelwald conflict. "I would suggest sending your wife an owl," she said.  
  
"Any particular reason?" he asked cautiously.  
  
"There was a reporter here from _The Daily Prophet_ ..." said Vector with a wry look.  
  
"So soon?" Albus interjected in annoyance. Those people ...  
  
"I'm afraid so, but we sent them packing," said Beatrice.  
  
Glancing at Agatha, he saw her blush and knew that he didn't dare ask how. He was better off not knowing.  
  
"Very good," he nodded before walking away in the direction of the hospital wing.  
  
  
It felt like a dream or more accurately a nightmare. Cold hands pulled at the collar of his robe. He could smell fetid breath, the scent of living decay and unwholesome darkness. Then the darkness overwhelmed him entirely, and he could remember no more for a very long time. Only a sense of floating and deep darkness and cold, like the bottom of a fathomless well. It was a feeling that was slow to leave him.  
  
Martin shivered involuntarily as he began to wake up. Something warm touched his hand, wrapping it securely in comforting warmth and pressure. He slowly opened his eyes, but closed them again against the bleary brightness. The feeling that something terrible had happened to him nearly overwhelmed him and made his heart pound thunderously in his ears. But he couldn't remember exactly what ...  
  
He tried opening his eyes again and found the light not so unbearable as before.  
  
"Martin?" questioned a familiar voice from his right. The pressure on his hand increased.  
  
"Father?" he mumbled, stifling a yawn.  
  
"Awake at last," chuckled Dumbledore, squeezing his son's hand again.  
  
"What happened?" asked Martin, sitting up in bed and blinking at Dumbledore with a confused expression.   
  
He still felt rather out of sorts. He realized that he was in the hospital wing and that all of the windows were covered by heavy drapes.  
  
"You don't remember?" his father questioned.  
  
Martin flushed slightly as he remembered leaving Ravenclaw tower after curfew. The girls left him standing in a little nook near the stairs to keep watch. He had hated that. He had left the half-hidden alcove almost as soon as they were gone, debating whether or not to follow them. Then he had heard the flapping of wings coming from one of the corridors. He turned just in time to see a very large, black bat change into a ... vampire.  
  
"I ... remember," he said, closing his eyes as it all came back to him.  
  
He had clumsily gone for his wand, but so had the vampire, who had been a wizard before the change and still quite capable of using a wand. The vampire was far quicker than the terrified first year. Martin could recall hearing a short incantation, one word or possibly two. Then sleep rolled over him like a great dark tide, but before it robbed him of his senses, he was aware of cold, icy fingers slipping beneath the collar of his robe and breath upon his face. The scent of death and the grave had filled his nostrils, almost choking him as he lost consciousness  
  
Martin's stomach roiled as he looked up at his father. He could not speak.  
  
"Son?" asked Dumbledore worriedly as he felt Martin's hand tremble.  
  
"The vampire ..." he said in a whisper.  
  
"Don't worry. It has left the castle," Dumbledore assured him, choosing his words carefully. He did not wish to mislead him nor give him further cause for alarm or distress. He wanted to tell Martin the truth or at least as much of it as he needed to know.  
  
Martin nodded silently. Dumbledore knew he was still frightened and could hardly blame him for that. He knew wizards of his own generation who were still reduced to gibbering heaps when confronted with the terror of a vampire. Martin was handling the experience rather well, all things considered.  
  
"It's all right," Dumbledore told him quietly, pulling his son into a hug. "You're safe now," he added in a comforting tone. He rubbed Martin's back in slow, methodical circles to calm him.   
  
For a moment Dumbledore thought about his son's childhood nightmares that he had always known were brought about by being born into the last days of Grindelwald's terrible regime. Even those months of infancy had left a mark of fear upon the boy. He wished that he could have spared his son that, and this.  
  
"And my friends? What about them?" Martin asked as he rested his head against his father's shoulder.  
  
"They weren't harmed, but I imagine they won't be too eager to leave the dormitories after hours in the near future," he replied with a soft, comforting laugh.  
  
Martin closed his eyes and let a feeling of relief wash over him. His friends were safe. That thought alone helped to brush away the terror of his encounter with the vampire. But nothing could wholly alleviate it.  
  
"We're in so much trouble, aren't we?" he asked, slowly and reluctantly pulling away from his father and looking up at him with a very solemn expression in his small, light brown eyes.  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that just now, but I imagine that later your head of house will have words with you and your friends," said Dumbledore.  
  
"I understand," nodded Martin. His expression was no longer anxious, only resigned.  
  
"Of course, I happen to think that points for bravery might be well deserved too, but ..."  
  
"We're only Ravenclaws," said Martin succinctly.  
  
"That wasn't what I was going to say," said Dumbledore, peering over his spectacles. "I was only going to say that it might encourage other students to roam the halls at night if points were given. I'm not sure if the headmaster would approve of that, regardless of the results."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I would give points to all five of you if it were solely at my discretion. From the story your friends told me, I believe I have reason to be impressed. Not many of your fellow students would have gone knowingly into such hazard, even for one of their friends, and I doubt many other second years could have driven away a vampire as Miss Howard did," said Dumbledore.  
  
Martin's eyes widened as he asked in awe, "Sissy drove the vampire away?"  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "I will want to question her more about it later perhaps as it was quite a feat. I imagine that Professor Knowles will wish to do so as well," he added. Mentioning the other professor, a look of worry briefly crossed his face.  
  
"Defense is her best subject," said Martin with a half smile.  
  
"No doubt," Dumbledore agreed. "And the other girls handled themselves just as well. You have rather remarkable friends."  
  
Martin blushed a little and mumbled, "Thanks."  
  
"I suppose I should escort you back to your dormitory now. You can't stay here all day," chuckled the professor.  
  
Martin climbed out of bed and stretched, but as he did so, his eyes fell on a figure in another bed. He shivered as he saw the pale skin and ruby red lips: two of the telltale marks of a vampire.  
  
"Who's that?" he asked in a slightly shrill voice that gave away his feelings of dread and anxiety.  
  
"Andrea Zabini," Dumbledore replied calmly. "He was bitten last night while on rounds. He is one of the seventh year prefects for Slytherin house."  
  
"So ... he's a vampire now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is he ... dangerous?" asked Martin.  
  
Dumbledore considered his question for a moment. Was the boy dangerous? Certainly, but he was a nearly fully trained wizard in addition to being a vampire. Was he not, in some sense, dangerous before the transformation? Weren't they all? But what should he tell Martin?   
  
The chances of Zabini becoming a predator like the vampire who had bitten him were rather high. It was difficult for a vampire to lead a normal life, even a vampire taken from good wizarding stock. But progress had been made in helping them lead such a life, and even in the previous century, it had happened. The professor of astronomy when Dumbledore had begun his teaching career had been a vampire, bitten on a family trip to Romania when he was in his early twenties. Professor Kerswell had been a very genial man with a loving family and a true talent in his field. His life had been difficult, but he had coped and adjusted after the change.   
  
In fact Kerswell had sometimes forgotten that he was a vampire.  
  
Dumbledore winced and rubbed his eyes at that thought. A student had been drowning in the lake in the early summer of 1901. Kerswell had run from the shadowy safety of Hogwarts and onto the grounds to save the student. Five paces into the sunlight and all that remained of him was a pile of ashes and robes. The student was rescued by the flying instructor.  
  
"Father?" prompted Martin.  
  
"Vampires are not always dangerous. They have a choice: to resist the urge to feed on humans or to give in to it. No one can say what choices a person may make, but perhaps Mister Zabini will choose the harder road," said Dumbledore.  
  
"And if he doesn't?"  
  
"It is best not to think about it," said his father as he put a hand on Martin's shoulder. "Now, I should see you back before I attend to some other business." he said, meaning the search in forest.  
  
They were half way to the doors when an annoyed voice called out from behind them.  
  
"And just where do you think you're going with _my_ patient, Professor Dumbledore?" It was, of course, Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Ah, back to his dormitory?" questioned Dumbledore as he turned. There was something rather unnerving about the way the young mediwitch could halt almost anyone in their tracks, even him at times.  
  
"Not before I have a look at him. Back to your bed, young man," she said, pursing her lips and pointing.  
  
Martin made his way back to the hospital bed with a sheepish look on his face. His previous brush with Madam Pomfrey, when Sophia had sprained her wrist, made him both like and respect the mediwitch, although he, like his father, found her a bit abrupt and possibly a bit intimidating.  
  
Poppy checked his pulse and waved her wand over him before giving a slight nod.  
  
"You're just fine, Mister Dumbledore," she concluded, "but if you should feel dizzy or light-headed, I want to see you back here immediately."  
  
"Of ... of course," he stammered nervously.  
  
The sound of movement from the other bed caused Pomfrey and both Dumbledores to turn. Zabini was sitting up in bed. He looked at his pale hands, the nails of which had grown longer and slightly more pointed overnight. The look on his face was one of incredulity.  
  
"It was real. What happened to me ... it was really real," he said, raising his head and looking toward them.  
  
Martin inhaled sharply when he saw Zabini's deep red eyes and sharp fangs. He had not expected the eyes to be the same.  
  
"Yes, Mister Zabini, I'm afraid it was," said Dumbledore.  
  
"How do you feel?" asked Pomfrey, hurrying to his bed side as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  
  
Zabini flinched as he considered the question.  
  
"Hungry," he replied with a look of consternation. Vampires could not blush.  
  
"That is quite understandable," said Pomfrey. "I have sent out for something that will fit your dietary needs," she added quite calmly.  
  
"Thank you," said Zabini as he noticed the curious look on Martin's face. "It's not polite to stare," he said, fixing him with the steady gaze of a vampire.  
  
"Sorry," Martin murmured, looking away immediately.  
  
"Afraid?" he asked with a certain sharpness in his voice.  
  
"Should I be?" asked Martin return.  
  
Zabini snorted and his nostrils flared, but he just shook his head. Poppy could tell that the young wizard was still in shock, still trying to understand and accept what had been done to him. All things being equal, he was handling it well.  
  
"Professor Krohn is preparing a room for you in the dungeons," she said, glancing toward the covered windows.  
  
"And a coffin too, I presume," he said, clenching his fists.  
  
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and said, "That will hardly be necessary as light doesn't reach very many of the dungeon rooms. You'll sleep in a bed. Same as everyone else here does."  
  
"May I speak with Professor Krohn? I wish to discuss what will become of me and ... whether he has contacted my family," said Zabini uncertainly.  
  
Martin frowned slightly. The young wizard sitting on the other bed, swinging his legs as he did so, looked very much the part of a vampire, which seen in the somewhat dim light of the hospital wing had a nobility and grace that was almost captivating. But he was still very much like a mere seventeen-year-old student, hesitant and unsure of himself.  
  
"Professor Krohn spoke with your parents some hours ago, but he has since left the castle," she informed him. "As for what will happen to you, that will have to wait."  
  
"Why?" asked Zabini.  
  
Madam Pomfrey glanced at Dumbledore, knowing the he could explain better.  
  
"Professor Knowles followed the vampire from the castle and into the forest ... Many of the faculty, including the headmaster, have followed in pursuit. It may be some time before they return and can discuss your situation," he said.  
  
Zabini nodded and glanced at Martin, who was looking at him again, and said, "I hope they catch the creature."  
  
"I just hope they manage to find Professor Knowles," said Dumbledore, though mostly to himself.  
  
"In the mean time I think you should remain here," said Poppy.  
  
"Where else have I to go? It's after sunrise, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
"True," she nodded, glancing at Martin and the professor.  
  
"May I return my son to his dormitory now? I imagine you would prefer to discuss Mister Zabini's condition and so forth more privately," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes, thank you," she nodded with a vague look of relief.  
  
With that Martin left the hospital bed and followed his father out of the ward, risking only one last backward glance at Zabini, whose shoulders were slumping.  
  
"That could have just as easily been me," Martin thought.  
  


* * *

A/N: Nothing special to add to that.  
  
  
HeeroTomoe: I think I answered most of your questions about Zabini. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: And Happy New Year! Thanks for the review!  
  
DarkSlytherinAngel: Krohn? A vampire? You know, that would have been an interesting idea. Darn. I can't find your name in the directory. Log in so I can get to your profile page! Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	15. The professor divinations

Chapter Fifteen  
  
The professor divinations  
  
  
  
The North Tower was deserted that Saturday afternoon as Corinna reluctantly climbed the stairs to visit Professor Mallaghan in his office. Quite frankly, she would have rather been in the common room with the rest of her house, which had been sequestered there due to the events of the night before and the continuing search in the Forbidden Forest. But she had agreed to have a talk with the Divinations' professor, and there was nothing for it.  
  
No one had warned her that the North Tower was very large and somewhat labyrinthine, and given the circumstances, rather spooky too. It had not helped that Peeves, the resident poltergeist, had popped out from behind a suit of armor and scared her at the bottom of the tower. So that explained why her heart was pounding in her ears as she looked for any sign of an office near the top.  
  
The sound of a door opening behind her made Corinna start and turn, fumbling inexpertly for her wand.  
  
Professor Mallaghan was standing there, regarding her curiously.  
  
"This is the easiest way to reach my office and classrooms, but if you would prefer to climb ..." he said with a smile, gesturing to an overhead trap door.  
  
"No thank you," she said quietly, following him through the hidden door and up a narrow staircase to a classroom.  
  
"Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to a number of comfortable chairs near the window.  
  
Corinna nodded mutely and took a seat in an overstuffed, but faded blue chair. She glanced at the forest outside. The search was still going on out there, and as far as she knew, it was not going very well.  
  
She turned as Joseph drew up a chair for himself, moving it so they were sitting nearly knee to knee, which made Corinna rather uncomfortable.  
  
"May I see your palm, my dear?" he asked with a smile, holding out his own hand to her.  
  
Corinna, knowing only a bit about palmistry, hesitated, worried about what he would see there or what would be revealed.  
  
"Why?" she questioned nervously.  
  
"It is often the easiest way to learn if someone has the talent, and palmistry is my specialty," he answered, "but you need not feel obligated."  
  
She hesitated a moment longer before holding out her right hand to him.  
  
He chuckled and said, "It will be on your other hand, my dear. What is _inside_ a person is seldom written in plain sight."  
  
Corinna blushed and held out her other hand to Professor Mallaghan. He took it gently and smiled at her again. Studying her hand for a moment, he nodded and traced a faint line on her palm. Then he furrowed his brow and began examining other lines at length. Corinna merely resisted the urge to squirm.  
  
He looked up with a snap and released her hand with a murmured apology.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked.  
  
"You are quite fascinating for a witch of mixed parentage," he said bluntly, but with a certain kindness still in his eyes. Mallaghan came from a proud and ancient wizarding family in Ireland himself, but he had very little of the prejudice and animosity that many purebloods harbored.  
  
"That's written there too?" asked Corinna.  
  
"Oh, yes, much is written there. Too much, by my reckoning."  
  
"Is that ... bad?" she asked, examining her own palm, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Only lines, some deep and some shallow, some short and some long.  
  
"It is neither here nor there," he replied, patting her knee. "But you do have the talent, and as much of it as I have ever seen," Joseph added. "It must be a tremendous burden to you already."  
  
"It ... it can be," she admitted, looking down at her lap and clenching her hands together.  
  
"I have something of the Sight myself, though not terribly much compared to some," he explained, "so I understand a bit of what it's like."  
  
"Is there any way to stop it or control it?" she asked.  
  
"No, child, there really isn't. Ignoring it ... that's nearly impossible, but sometimes it's the only thing to do," he said.  
  
Corinna's eyes filled with tears. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had been hoping that the professor could tell her how to make the 'talent' go away or to stop seeing the future. She felt as though, given what had happened the night before, the responsibility was too great for her.   
  
"Poor lass, I know it's difficult. My son had the talent too. He always thought it was his responsibility to change things, to make things turn out better. It tore him up inside, all of that knowledge," said Mallaghan in a sad voice.  
  
"What happened to him, sir?" asked Corinna with a slight sniff.  
  
"He died in France when he was about Professor Knowles' age," answered Joseph.  
  
"In the war against ..."  
  
"No," Joseph interrupted, "near Sedan. He was trying to warn the villagers about an attack, but the muggles used one of their mechanical wands on him and he died. I think he knew he was going to."  
  
"I'm sorry ..." she stammered, looking up with the tears still in her eyes.  
  
"No matter. It was a long time ago," he said. "Might I ask you a few more questions now?"  
  
"Of course," she said, shifting in her seat.  
  
"What was your first sign of magic?"  
  
"The ... talent," she answered quietly. "I was three years old, and I knew mum was going to be in an accident in her muggle automobile. She was. Her leg was broken in three places."  
  
"Must have been very frightening to know that," said Joseph.  
  
"Yes, sir, it was," she nodded.  
  
"Mine was turning my maiden aunt's hair green," he said with a chuckle, almost as though he were trying to get her to laugh too. Corinna could only manage a teary-eyed smile.  
  
"I bet that gave her a start," she said.  
  
"Er ... it was at her funeral," he said. Corinna's eyes widened, but she couldn't think of anything to say to that. "My folks weren't too terribly pleased," he added.  
  
"No ..." she agreed faintly.  
  
Joseph grew somber and said, "I want to ask you a hard question now, but you don't have to answer it if you don't want to."  
  
"All right," she said, bracing herself.  
  
"Have you ever foreseen your own death?"  
  
Corinna looked at him, searching his face for a moment and wondering why he should ask such a morbid question. She thought of what he must have seen in her palm and resisted the urge to shudder.  
  
"No, I haven't," she answered.  
  
Corinna found that she wanted to ask him the same thing, but couldn't. It was too strange and grisly, and she rather imagined that he had. That was a chilling thought if ever there was one.  
  
"Good, lass, very good," he said, patting her knee again. "Would you like some tea before you go?"  
  
She blinked at him for a moment, but said, "No, thank you, professor."  
  
"Very well," he said, sliding his chair back and gazing toward the window. "Any ideas on when they will find Cyrus ... Professor Knowles, I mean?" he asked her.  
  
"No," she answered.  
  
"Well, such things don't come for the asking. Say a little prayer for him if you're so inclined," he told Corinna, leaving his seat.  
  
She did the same and followed him out of the classroom and back to the main corridor of the tower.  
  
"Same time next Saturday?" he questioned expectantly.  
  
Corinna considered it for a moment, realizing that she felt much better after talking to Mallaghan.  
  
"All right," she agreed.  
  
"Wonderful. I shall be looking forward to it, Miss Bellew," he said with a smile before retreating back into his classroom.  
  
  
The rest of that Saturday was spent within the confines of Ravenclaw tower until the prefects escorted them to dinner and back again. Sophia, Sissy, Olivia, and Martin had questioned Corinna at length about her meeting with Professor Mallaghan, but her answers remained vague and cryptic.  
  
"But he does believe you have the gift?" pressed Olivia as they sat around the common room, taking a break from their studies that Corinna was not certain that she could afford.  
  
"Yes," she replied evenly, not bothering to add that she possessed it in great measure.  
  
"Is he going to be tutoring you or something?" asked Sophia.  
  
"I'm not certain," she shrugged, unsure of how to characterize the meeting. Tutoring? Not especially. It was more like counseling of sorts.  
  
"Professor Mallaghan seems nice," offered Olivia.  
  
Corinna risked a smile and answered, "Yes, he is very kind and understanding. I never realized that I wasn't the only who felt this way about ... about what I can do."  
  
"That must be a comfort to know," said Sophia with an understanding look her eyes.  
  
"It is," Corinna nodded.  
  
Sissy, who had been watching the signals outside, which were more distant now than ever, coming up from the Forbidden Forest, turned and asked, "Do you think they'll find him?" She wasn't addressing anyone in particular, but Corinna felt as though Sissy were asking her.  
  
"Of course. It's only a matter of time," said Martin with a slight shrug.  
  
"I agree," said Corinna quietly.  
  
"Well, everyone knows the rumors about him, how he was a volunteer Auror in France during the war, so we should assume that he can handle himself," said Sophia placidly.  
  
Sissy's eyes narrowed slightly at the her friends' indifference. He was her favorite professor, no matter how much he managed to unnerve her, not to mention nearly everyone else. If he died out there ... She shuddered and pushed the troublesome thought away. Knowles could take care of himself and any Dark Creature he might encounter.  
  
"Except that he doesn't believe in the study of Dark Creatures," she reminded herself unhappily.  
  
"I'm going to turn in," said Corinna. "Will any of you be joining me for breakfast tomorrow morning after practice?"  
  
"I will," said Martin brightly.  
  
"Me too," said Olivia.  
  
"I will make an effort," said Sissy evenly before picking up her defense text and resuming her studying.  
  
Sophia merely looked sheepish, but Corinna understood completely. She would not be out of bed so early herself if it were not required of her.  
  
  
As Corinna trudged in from a rather rigorous practice the next morning, she was surprised to see all of her friends waiting for her in the Entrance Hall, even Sophia, who was blinking and yawning quite a bit as she leaned against the nearest wall.  
  
"There was a commotion in the forest about a quarter of an hour ago. It woke all of us up, so we figured we would all come down and see ..." began Sophia tiredly.  
  
"If I knew anything? I didn't hear it, but I've been in the locker rooms," said Corinna, shaking her head. "What do you think it was?" she asked, glancing at wide-awake Martin and Olivia.   
  
All of them appeared to have dressed in a rush, especially Martin whose shoes did not match. Only Sissy had someone managed to arrive looking perfectly kempt and attired. Corinna had to wonder how she had done it so with so little time, but her friend did know a vast array of grooming charms..  
  
"We think they've found Professor Knowles," said Sissy solemnly, "but there's no way to know in what condition ... unless we wait for them here."   
  
She did not bother to add that they had not got permission from the prefects nor anyone else to leave the tower. They had merely slipped out while everyone else was crowding the windows and pestering the prefects.  
  
"I see ..." said Corinna.  
  
She wasn't disappointed that the only reason they came down for breakfast was curiosity over what had happened to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In fact she was rather pleased to see them down at all as usually only Olivia and Martin would share the morning meal with her on the weekends. This was, despite the seriousness of the situation, rather like a treat.  
  
"How long do think they'll be?" asked Olivia.  
  
"If he's hurt ... not long," said Sissy quietly.  
  
Sophia gave her a pitying glance, knowing how much she liked their defense teacher. Honestly, she could hardly understand why as the man was rather harsh and quite strange, but she knew that each of them had a favorite professor and they would all be equally crushed if something happened to that professor. For Sophia, that was Professor Krohn. For Olivia, Professor Flitwick, and, to a lesser degree, the headmaster. For Sissy, Professor Knowles. She was not certain whom Martin or Corinna held in highest esteem. She almost assumed with Martin that it was his father. But Corinna seemed almost reluctant to choose a favorite, although Sophia well imagined that Mallaghan might fill that void.  
  
The sound of voices outside caused them to exchange hopeful and worried glances just moments later. The doors magically burst open to admit a throng of professors gathered around a floating stretcher. Sissy eased forward to get a better look as Flitwick and Vector debated the virtues of dragging the stretcher up the stairs to the hospital wing versus using a Mobilicorpus spell on its occupant.  
  
Knowles was lying on the stretcher with one arm dangling loosely over the side and the other draped over his midsection. His robes were torn and bloodied. A thin rivulet of the same dark crimson liquid coursed down his arm and dripped almost audibly onto the stone floor of the castle. Sissy inhaled sharply as she saw his pallid, nearly gray-hued face. Blood seemed to be oozing from beneath his eyelids, and his skin was a very sickly contrast to the bright red stains.  
  
"Is he dead?" she asked as her eyes darted from one professor to another. She felt light-headed as she asked the question and was relieved when Martin calmly stepped forward too and placed a hand on her back to help steady her.  
  
"Hardly," said the man on the stretcher.  
  
All of the professors stopped talking and stared at Knowles. They had obviously not realized that he could hear them, that he was, in fact, conscious.  
  
"Cyrus? Are you in very much pain?" asked Professor Sprout, who had gone out just that morning after Dippet had acknowledged the need for reinforcements. Her normally cheerful face was pale with concern.  
  
"It's excruciating, Agatha, but I'll manage somehow," Knowles replied with characteristic coolness.  
  
"We've got to get him to Madam Pomfrey," urged Professor Dumbledore, who did not look very pleased to see his son standing there gawking with his friends. There were a few shallow but bloody scratches on the professor's face, and his nose appeared to have been broken ... again. He dabbed at it with his sleeve, but it no longer seemed to be bleeding.  
  
"I'll take him," volunteered Krohn in quiet, yet firm voice. His complexion appeared to be almost ashen. Whatever he had seen in the forest must have been horrible. In fact the horror of the previous day and two nights shone unconcealed in his eyes.  
  
"I won't have you tossing me about like a rag doll, Reynard," objected Knowles, holding out his hand in a gesture meant to stop the potions' master.  
  
"You have to be careful. He's ..." began the headmaster.  
  
"Injured. I know," said Reynard sharply, cutting off Dippet, who was holding up his wand, obviously having conjured the stretcher for the ailing defense professor. He was continuing to keep it levitated.  
  
"I'll alert Madam Pomfrey," Professor Vector decided before hitching up her robes and running up the stairs that led to the hospital wing.  
  
The five Ravenclaws watched with a little bit of awe as Krohn lifted his colleague from the stretcher bodily and hefted him over his shoulder. None of them had realized that the potions' master was so strong, not even after watching him handle much slimmer Zabini.  
  
With a quick nod to the headmaster, he started up the stairs after Beatrice with Flitwick, Sprout, and Dippet himself on his heels. Dumbledore remained behind, touching his nose gingerly as he approached the students.  
  
"Father, is he going to all right?" asked Martin in a quavering voice. The girls had never heard the two of them speak outside the classroom before.  
  
"Only Madam Pomfrey can say for certain," he replied as he looked them over.  
  
"What happened?" Martin inquired cautiously.  
  
"I believe that is a question for another time," said Dumbledore sternly, looking over his glasses, which appeared to have seen some wear.  
  
"And your nose?" asked Martin with a pronounced wince. He stood on tip-toe to reach up and touch his father's face, examining the damage that had been done. The tall professor leaned down a bit to accommodate him. "Mum's going to have a fit if you don't get that taken care of properly," he said.  
  
It was the second time something like that had happened. The first time was during the war when the elder Dumbledore had taken a Stunning Spell to the face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious.  
  
"Of that there can be no doubt," chuckled Dumbledore, catching his son's hands and squeezing them. "But Madam Pomfrey will be otherwise engaged for a few hours," he added.  
  
Martin nodded that he understood and said, "Just the same, if it doesn't shape up a bit, mum _will_ go spare next times she sees you."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, and winced, at his bluntness, which was a trait he had inherited from his mother.  
  
"I'll get some ice for it from the house elves," he assured Martin.  
  
"Professor," said Sissy, "please, can't you tell us something about what happened to Professor Knowles?" She looked at him expectantly.  
  
Sissy understood that the professor could no more tell her whether Knowles would be all right than Corinna could, but she knew by his bloodied and disheveled state that he could tell her at least something of what had happened in the Forbidden Forest.  
  
"Miss Howard ..."  
  
"Please?" she pleaded as Olivia put a warning hand on her shoulder.  
  
Dumbledore sighed softly and removed his glasses, examining them for a moment before taking his wand from his pocket to repair them with a quiet incantation. He returned them to his face and looked at Sissy again.  
  
"Your concern is commendable, but I do not think it is advisable at this point in time," he said. "I assume you were all on your way to breakfast. You should probably continue there," Dumbledore told them before walking away.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: I hope Dumbledore doesn't sound mean at the end here, just serious.  
  
  
silversea: Yes, Inner Eye. *laughs* We have a full complement (more or less) of professors again. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Positively Curious: She's a very special witch. Um, not telling ... yet. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	16. A visit to the hospital wing

Chapter Sixteen  
  
A visit to the hospital wing  
  
  
  
The students were encouraged to remain indoors that Sunday, despite the pleasant weather outside. There was no need to ask why. The vampire had been neither apprehended nor destroyed during the professors' escapade in the Forbidden Forest. And by this time, everyone in the school knew exactly what was going on and many of the students were afraid, despite the fact that it had been successfully driven from the castle. Or more accurately, the girls and Martin believed, it had taken what it wanted, Zabini's blood, and fled because it wished to do so, needing nothing further from them at the moment.  
  
They were informed that evening at dinner that Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled for the week due to the fact that Professor Knowles was indisposed and no other qualified professor could be found on such short notice. The young Ravenclaws knew better; he was a lot more than indisposed.   
  
Sissy hung her head as she heard the news. Corinna patted her back to console her.  
  
"He'll be back," she told her friend.  
  
"Are you sure?" Sissy asked, looking up with calm eyes, but distress all too evident in her voice.  
  
"No," Corinna admitted. She had not had a premonition or anything since the night when Martin and Zabini were attacked. She was grateful for the respite, but it would have been nice to be able to comfort Sissy.  
  
Her eyes drifted to the Slytherin table where the vampire-prefect was eating with his house since the sun had gone down and it was safe for him to leave the darkness of the dungeons. Zabini was technically eating alone as his house mates continued to eye him with suspicion and uneasiness, even his former friends. What greater guarantee of a hard life was there than that?  
  
"Poor bloke," said Martin, who sat on the other side of Corinna, noticing her gaze.  
  
"Yeah," she agreed quietly.  
  
Martin risked another glance at his father at the high table. His nose was still more crooked than usual. Obviously, he had taken his sweet time before troubling the mediwitch to do something about the injury. He would most definitely catch hell from his wife. Martin was certain about that. Even after more than ten years of field work, with some minor interruptions, his mum had never come home from her adventures banged up or disfigured. His father couldn't seem to help himself.  
  
"Ready to go back to the common room?" asked Sophia as they finished their desserts, which did not taste nearly so good that night as they all had things on their minds of a mostly unpleasant nature.  
  
"Sure," said Corinna, "I have loads of reading to do from last week."  
  
"And I still have that essay to write," said Olivia with an apologetic wince.  
  
Sissy remained silent, but followed them from the Great Hall. She paused when they had exited and looked up the stairs that led to the hospital wing. Then she made a decision.  
  
"Sissy?" asked Martin, noticing that she had stopped.  
  
"I'm going to see him," she said in a voice that would brook no argument. "I'll be back well before curfew," she promised as Sophia began to open her mouth.  
  
"Is this wise?" asked Martin with an uncomfortable look.  
  
"Perhaps not, but this is something I must do," she replied before turning on her heel and walking briskly away. It was obvious that they were not invited to follow. Sissy intended to make her visit alone.  
  
  
Sissy was very careful when she opened the doors to the hospital wing. Those doors had seen much abuse in the previous seventy-two hours. But they were still kind enough not to creak as she let herself in and closed them soundlessly behind her. She was trembling, she realized, as she surveyed the dimly lit ward. The curtains were still blocking the windows, not that it mattered very much. A candle was glowing by a bedside near the rear of the ward, directing her to the appropriate bed.  
  
She walked the length of the hospital wing with quiet steps, listening for any sound of the mediwitch, who had not been at dinner, possibly because of her patient. Sissy heard nothing as she approached the bed that her professor occupied. Her heart was hammering as she stood there looking down at him.  
  
Knowles' eyes had been bandaged. It was a mercy not to see the blood, but then her mouth went dry as she realized that it was possible that he had been permanently injured, perhaps even blinded. Nothing else seemed to be amiss. His other injuries were healed and gone. His torn and bloodstained robes had been replaced with clean hospital garments. He was perhaps a bit pallid, but that was not so abnormal as he had always seemed somewhat pale to her.  
  
"Who goes there?" Knowles asked, startling her enough to make her gasp. He reached toward her with a grasping hand, but his reach was not sufficient to grab her. It was the second time in a day that he had surprised her. "Miss Howard, is that you?" he questioned as she took an additional backward step.  
  
"How did you know?" she asked.  
  
"I didn't. I was only guessing. I couldn't think of another student who would visit me," he said with a bit of a smile. It was not an especially kind smile. He reached toward her a second time, straining to find her. "Miss Howard, I do not wish to speak with a disembodied voice. Please, come closer. I won't harm you or attempt to detain you against your will," said Knowles with a dry edge to his voice.  
  
She stepped nearer and permitted him to grasp her arm. His grip was rather loose. He had meant what he said.  
  
"How do you feel, sir?" she questioned.  
  
"Very, very foolish, Miss Howard, and how are you this evening?"  
  
"I'm ... fine, sir," she replied.   
  
His glib answer was not surprising to her. She hardly expected him answer her question as most people would.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey sheered my hair off. I think she's been wanting to do that since she arrived here," he said, running his fingers through his substantially shorter brown hair. He trembled slightly as he lowered his hand again. The grip on her arm tightened for an instant.  
  
"Does it hurt, professor?" asked Sissy uncertainly.  
  
"No, but I rather fancied my long hair made me look more mysterious," he answered. "Don't fret, Miss Howard. Madam Pomfrey gave me something for the worst of the pain. I'm embarrassed to say that I rather needed it." he added.  
  
"You were very brave to go after the vampire. I don't think you have any reason for embarrassment," she said awkwardly. Of course, she also realized that her luck in facing the creature had been substantially better. But then, she had not run into the Forbidden Forest alone, not to mention in the middle of the night, which was both brave and foolish in nearly equal measure.  
  
"I never even got close enough to vampire to get a good look at it, so ... rubbish," he replied calmly. He shuddered again, but his grip remained loose. "Miss Howard, can I ask a favor of you?"  
  
"I ... suppose," she stammered.  
  
"Help me get these deuced bandages off," he requested, gesturing to those that covered his eyes.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey would have my head if I did that, sir," she answered, "and rightly so. I'm sure she has those bandages on there for good reason."  
  
"You won't help me then?" he asked.  
  
"I'm almost certain that I would vomit if it looked very bad ..." she admitted.  
  
"Ugh! Then there would be a horrid smell. Very well, Miss Howard," he said with a disgusted expression. "I can see, you know, in a manner of speaking. Flashes of color and light. Odd shapes," he commented in an off-hand manner.  
  
Sissy drew a deep breath as he told her that, realizing that he might very well be blind. And if he couldn't see, how could he teach defense classes or use a wand properly?  
  
"Maybe ..." she began in a worried voice. His hand tightened around her arm.  
  
"Miss Howard, please refrain from becoming overly emotional. I would be quite disappointed as I have always admired your level-headedness," he said in a strained voice.  
  
"Yes, sir," she replied, taking a calming breath.  
  
His grip relaxed again. Knowles communicated almost as much through that as with his words.  
  
"I never realized the Dark Forest was quite so dangerous, you know," he said almost conversationally. "I had never troubled to go inside before," he added.  
  
"I have always doubted some of the rumors myself," said Sissy.  
  
"Let me attest to the fact that the more gruesome ones are true," said Knowles with a wry look.  
  
"The giant spiders?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"Centaurs?"  
  
"Not at all friendly."  
  
"Werewolves?"  
  
"I've never heard that one before, but there very well might be werewolves in the forest," he said with a puzzled expression.  
  
"Other things?"  
  
"Now you are just fishing, Miss Howard," he answered. "I never considered the study of Dark Creatures very worthwhile in my field. I thought that the various Magical Creatures courses covered everything one would need to know. Apparently not so," Knowles admitted.  
  
"Perhaps you should consider reevaluating your curriculum then," suggested Sissy, recalling the nuisance of searching the library for information on vampires, which were not covered with any degree of specificity in his defense textbooks.  
  
"I believe I shall, if given the opportunity," he answered. "Of course, I still maintain that one's fellow wizards are the greater hazard."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"How old were you during the war, Miss Howard?" he questioned.  
  
"I was almost two years old when it ended," she replied coolly, taking his meaning: that she was too young to understand the harm Dark Wizards could perpetrate against their community. In truth she could hardly remember any of it, only the celebration when it was over.  
  
"I was involved in the fighting. It seemed like a good idea at the time, volunteering for service abroad. The qualifications for being a 'volunteer' Auror were relatively lax due to the mounting death tolls, even in the first years of the conflict. The muggle war took nearly as many of us as the wizarding one," said Knowles almost as though he were telling her a story.  
  
"One of my uncles was in the war, and he never came back," Sissy told him, remembering the picture her mother had shown her of a dashing young wizard with flowing blond hair and the crisp, clean robes of an Auror. He too had volunteered.  
  
"A lot of witches and wizards never returned home," Knowles agreed in an even voice. "I had a number of near misses myself. An Unforgivable Curse passed so close to me once that I could hear it as it whizzed by in the dark."  
  
"It must have been ..." she began to tell him, placing her hand on top of his.  
  
"Please, I've heard it before, Miss Howard. I assure you that I know it was awful or terrible or whatever you were going to say," he said with an impatient sigh. She slowly withdrew her hand. He did not. "I had seen every horror wizarding kind can visit on each other before I was injured. I know very well what it was like."  
  
"Of course," she said evenly, realizing that she had inadvertently angered him.  
  
"Would you like to see what they did to me over there?" Knowles asked in a sharp voice with a rather odd, twisted smile.  
  
"I ..." she stammered, wondering how she could best discourage him.  
  
"No, wait, that's not exactly something I can show a young lady, is it?" he said to himself. Sissy shuddered violently at all of the implications, and he laughed to himself.  
  
"I wouldn't know," she managed, but her voice was slightly shrill. He was genuinely frightening her now, but she would rather faced the vampire again that let him know it.  
  
"Miss Howard, I must apologize for that last remark. It has never been my intention to say anything so coarse in front of a student. But I simply don't feel like myself at the moment," he said, sobering. The laughter died upon his lips as he recovered himself.  
  
"Quite all right," she said tersely. "As you have said, Madam Pomfrey has given you potions. No doubt they are affecting you in undesirable ways."  
  
"I thank you for your indulgence," he said with a nod in her direction. His hand immediately tightened on her arm again. "Pardon me," he whispered.  
  
She bit her tongue before she could ask him if he was feeling all right. Knowles would not have appreciated it.  
  
"Perhaps you should refrain from moving about," she told him.  
  
"Excellent suggestion," he replied, slowly loosening his grip.  
  
"Or if you would prefer, I could call for Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"There you go with that deuced emotionalism! I don't need a nursemaid. I only need someone to do as you are doing until the long darkness finally comes," said Knowles in a biting tone.  
  
"The long darkness?" she repeated with a stab of fear.  
  
"The flashes and shapes are dying away. Soon there will be nothing ..." he answered. "But that is neither here nor there," he sighed, inclining his chin slightly.  
  
Suddenly Sissy realized something. Beneath the bravado, Knowles was terrified, and probably in more pain that he would ever admit, even in a jesting manner.  
  
"I will stay then. My studies are caught up well enough," she answered, though doing so made her almost giddy to say it. So did behaving in such an unfeeling and uncaring manner.  
  
She was, as Knowles said, not given to emotionalism, but to be so callous made her quite ill. Sophia and Corinna in her place, she knew, would have been blubbing long ago. She merely wanted to say something comforting to him without repercussions. She wanted to tell him that he would be all right, that he wasn't alone, that he was going to recover just fine. And Sissy knew that to say those things was beyond her power in more ways than one.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Howard. I would not wish you to neglect them on my account. Of course, you are well ahead of your peers in defense," he told her, giving her quite a compliment. At least it was coming from him.  
  
"Only because ..."  
  
"Careful," he warned, probably thinking she was going to say thanks to his teaching, which was never her intent.  
  
"I do research on my own when I have the time," she concluded, raising a pale eyebrow even though he could not see it.  
  
He arched his back slightly, and his hand became like a vice on her arm. He bit his lower lip to stifle a cry.  
  
"Sir?" she asked with a note of panic in her voice.  
  
"Take the bandages off," he moaned.  
  
"I can't," she replied, gritting her teeth.  
  
"I must know! I must be sure!"  
  
"Shall I call for Madam Pomfrey now then?" she questioned, reaching to pry his hand from her arm as it was beginning to hurt.  
  
"She ... isn't here. She went to St. Mungo's for a specialist. I told her that I would be all right in the meantime," explained Knowles.  
  
"She left you alone?" asked Sissy incredulously.  
  
"I was very persuasive," he said, relaxing his grip of his own accord again. He was panting slightly, but Sissy imagined that the pain was passing, although she could not be certain of that fact. Perhaps he had merely mastered it again.  
  
"Cyrus," said a voice from behind her, "stop badgering the poor girl."  
  
She started and looked over shoulder to see Professor Dumbledore. His expression was rather stern. But the odd thing was that Sissy had not heard him enter. In fact, she could have sworn that the doors to the wing had never once opened. How long had the professor been standing there? She felt certain that he had been there for more than a few moments.  
  
"Albus, you wouldn't be willing to assist me with the bandages, would you?" Knowles asked.  
  
"I would never dare disobey Poppy," he answered, walking around to the other side of the hospital bed.  
  
"Rubbish! She's barely a quarter of your age! You could ... could do it easily," said Knowles, turning his head toward Dumbledore.  
  
"My dear boy," said Dumbledore with a very sad, but understanding look in his eyes, "I am very sorry ..."  
  
"Please, spare me," snorted Knowles, forgetting Sissy for at least the moment as Dumbledore reached down and carefully lifted his other hand.  
  
"I will wait with you if you wish as I assure you that you have scared Miss Howard nearly out of her wits," he said.  
  
"She isn't frightened. Not much, anyway. She's just like me," objected Knowles.  
  
"Cyrus, there is no one on earth who is at all like you," answered Dumbledore, looking over his spectacles first at Cyrus, then at Sissy.  
  
"Very well," he said, releasing Sissy's arm. "You may go, Miss Howard, as I imagine that curfew is fast approaching."  
  
"Are you certain, sir?" she inquired evenly.  
  
"Quite. Good-night," he said with a note of finality in his voice.  
  
Sissy looked at Dumbledore for a moment, watching as he patted Knowles' hand, squeezing it gently, but firmly in his own, and received no strenuous objection for doing so. She suddenly knew something about Knowles that astonished her as she turned and walked away from them both. Knowles had surely been a Gryffindor, and one of Professor Dumbledore's own students. It all made perfect sense now. She nearly chuckled to herself as she exited the hospital wing and started back to the Aerie. She would have laughed, but the feeling of sadness at seeing Knowles in such a state lingered.  
  


* * *

  
A/N: I think Knowles being a Gryffindor might be a bit predictable, but that's just how the character turned out.  
  
  
silversea: I would never want to be able to see/know the future. The responsibility would be too much. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HeeroTomoe: I love explaining the nose in fan fiction. There has to be a great story behind it. I'm glad you think the characters are IC. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	17. Recompense

Chapter Seventeen  
  
Recompense  
  
  
  
It wasn't long before curfew that evening when Ignatius Ambrose and the other, older prefects walked into the common room. Sometime earlier Sissy had silently taken her place with her friends near the window as the much favored spot in front of the hearth was already occupied. They had not questioned her about her visit yet, but Olivia, not to mention Martin, was very curious. But they could all tell that she was a bit disturbed by whatever had happened and probably therefore loath to talk about the matter, especially in a place so public as the common room.  
  
"Can I have your attention please?" asked Ambrose, clearing his throat loudly.  
  
"No," muttered one of his fellow fifth years without so much as looking up from the game of chess he was playing.  
  
The other prefects looked at Ambrose with expressions ranging from indulgence to amusement before one of the seventh year prefects went to stand in the middle of the room.  
  
Broderick Bode looked around at the Ravenclaws, only about half of whom were paying any attention, and asked, "What about me then?" He had a wry half-smile on his somewhat shallow face as he spoke.  
  
The rest of the students looked up at that. Bode was taken a lot more seriously than arrogant Ambrose. Everyone had thought during the previous term that he was going to be Head Boy, but rumor had it that his marks in Herbology weren't up to snuff compared to the other students vying for the position. But he was still well-respected nonetheless.  
  
"Professor Flitwick has informed us that curfew has been changed for this term. Students will not be permit outside the common rooms after dark without an escort. This means that, when it is deemed necessary, the prefects will be escorting the rest of you from the Great Hall following dinner and that by mid-November, Quidditch practices will end promptly at six o'clock. There will be prefects in the library from seven o'clock until eight to escort students between there and the Aerie. The grounds are strictly off-limits after sunset and before sunrise," Bode informed them somberly.  
  
There was a lot of grumbling from many of the students who were still enjoying, or hoping to enjoy, the nice weather outside before it grew cold or rainy. Ambrose looked particularly sour about the Quidditch announcement, which would shave an hour off all of their practices. Corinna experienced a stab of guilt as she felt a bit relieved by the news. But all of them could understand that the precautions were only sensible and reasonable ones.  
  
Then Bode turned toward where the group was sitting with their books, quills, and parchments and pointed to them: "You five have an appointment with Professor Flitwick."  
  
They all clambered to their feet. Martin had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Olivia and Corinna were blushing a brilliant shade of crimson. Sissy's face was almost blank, though her eyes were oddly wide. Sophia simply stared at the floor as though she hoped it would swallow her whole. They were all keenly aware of the curious stares of their house mates, most of whom remained unaware of their involvement in the situation.  
  
"Ambrose, please take them to his office," instructed Bode.  
  
"Right away," said the younger prefect.  
  
  
They followed Ambrose down the stairs of the Aerie and then through the corridor leading toward the West Tower. They all walked in silence, including the prefect, who had his wand drawn as though he expected an attack. Sissy almost sneered. An attack would not be coming so soon. The vampire's appetite had been temporarily sated. There was little doubt about that.  
  
At a small oak door, they paused and Ambrose knocked. A high voice from inside bade them to enter. The prefect opened the door and ushered them inside. Sissy and Olivia were forced to duck. The office was uniquely suited to the Lilliputian professor, although inside it was rather large, despite the low ceiling. Ambrose closed the door behind them with a quick 'good evening, sir' to Professor Flitwick.  
  
"Please, have a seat," said their head of house, gesturing to five chairs set in front of his desk. They had probably been conjured for the occasion.  
  
Nervous and shuffling, they all took their places in front of his desk. Olivia was trying not to cry now as Flitwick looked over his low desk at them. She knew that they would be receiving a stern lecture concerning their conduct, which was certainly unbefitting Ravenclaws. Being out after hours ... the scandal they had probably caused ... Sissy's impertinent questions about Knowles in front of the other professors ... Merlin only knew what else.  
  
"I've never been teased about my students by Professor Dumbledore. Other professors certainly, but not by him," said Flitwick, although he did not seem very upset by this.  
  
Olivia looked up a little and said, "We're sorry, sir."  
  
Sissy raised an eyebrow to let her know that she could speak for herself. But she had the grace and poise to say nothing aloud.  
  
"Don't be, Miss Scarrow. In a manner of speaking it was rather flattering," said Flitwick as his eyes drifted to a dueling plaque that hung on his wall in an unobtrusive location. "You all acted quite ... bravely," he added, "although perhaps I should say recklessly as well."  
  
Olivia started to open her mouth to say something.  
  
"I'm not one for assigning blame," said Flitwick, holding up his hand to stop her. "You were all out of bounds after hours. You will all be treated accordingly," he said, trying to look more stern, which was very difficult for him.  
  
The students exchanged miserable glances. Sophia and Corinna in particular were rather anxious that they would be sent to Mister Pringle. They had heard terrible stories about whips and chains from the older students, all of whom spoke his name with a certain dread. Not that Ravenclaw house was home to a lot of troublemakers, but they still had access to the lurid tales from other houses and a few Gryffindors had scars to show off for the younger students of any house.  
  
Of course, as any older student could have told them, if they wished to do so, Professor Flitwick had not sent any student to Pringle in almost seven years time and was not about to change that position for their case.  
  
"Miss Colville, you will be serving detention with Professor Krohn for the next five afternoons. Mister Dumbledore, you will be spending some quality time with your father every morning _before_ breakfast starting tomorrow. Miss Bellew, your time will be spent with Professor Mallaghan, although ... I'm not sure what he can possibly have planned," said Flitwick with a puzzled look.  
  
"And us, sir?" asked Sissy, gesturing to Olivia and herself.  
  
"Miss Scarrow will be with me. As you may have noticed, the Charms' classroom is in quite a state these days," he said with a small smile, which he quickly tried to suppress. "As for your detentions, Miss Howard, that matter is still under consideration. I should have a schedule for you by tomorrow morning," said Flitwick.  
  
"If I may ask, sir, how were these detentions arranged?" questioned Sophia.  
  
"Oh, well, I suppose you could say that staff members drew lots," said Flitwick in an off-hand manner.  
  
They had all, with the exception of Sissy and perhaps Corinna, ended up with their favorite professors. Olivia suspected that they were being punished without really being punished. It had worked out rather neatly.  
  
"You may have noticed that this is hardly more than a slap on the wrist. Let me assure you that any further funny business will not be treated in such a ... a casual manner," he warned them.  
  
"Of course not, sir," said Sophia, who was feeling quite grateful.  
  
"All of you were very fortunate, in more ways than one, and I hope you realize that," he added.  
  
They all nodded that they did indeed understand, especially Corinna, who glanced first at Olivia and then at Martin.  
  
"Very good," said Flitwick. "Mister Ambrose is waiting outside to return you to the Aerie. You may go."  
  
  
The crowd in the common room had thinned out substantially by the time the five students returned with the prefect, feeling for the most part relieved and still a little confused. The girls all wanted to talk, so much that Olivia felt as though it would kill her to stay quiet for a moment longer. But if they wanted to do so, it would mean retreating to their dormitory so that they could not be overheard, and that would mean abandoning Martin.  
  
"Shall we adjourn to the other room?" asked Sissy evenly, noticing Olivia's impatient and furtive glances toward the stairs as they began gathering their things.  
  
Martin looked vaguely crestfallen when the other three witches all nodded in agreement, but he held his tongue.  
  
"Good-night, Martin," said Corinna with a sympathetic smile. She knew that he only naturally wanted in on the conversation too.  
  
"I might as well turn in since I have to see my father before breakfast tomorrow," he said with a mechanical shrug.  
  
"Too bad we can't drag Martin up here with us," said Olivia wistfully as they walked up the stairs to their dormitory.  
  
"Think of the scandal," said Sophia, shaking her head.  
  
"That's nice!" Olivia shot back as they entered and closed the door behind them.  
  
Sissy went about lighting the lamps as Corinna just shook her head at the other two girls. How they had ever come to be such good friends, she would never fully understand.  
  
"Who do you suppose will be handling your detentions, Sissy?" asked Sophia, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor when arguing with someone so fierce and stubborn as Olivia. This course of action was not at all unusual for her.  
  
"Professor Knowles, if he is able ..." she answered, taking at seat at the window, but hardly bothering to glance outside.  
  
"You saw him, didn't you?" asked Olivia curiously.  
  
Sophia's eyes were wide as she scooped her cat up from the floor and waited for the answer.  
  
"Of course. That's what I meant to do, isn't it?" said Sissy with a slightly superior sneer.  
  
"And?" pressed Olivia.  
  
"He might be blind," said Sissy as her expression faded to one of unhappiness and anxiety that she could not conceal from her friends.  
  
"Are they going to take him to St. Mungo's?" asked Corinna.  
  
Sissy looked at her sharply, knowing what she meant: was their professor going to be confined there? Would they take his wand? Was he now going to be a invalid?  
  
"I don't know," she replied.  
  
"Difficult to imagine him staying here if he can't see. That's an accident waiting to happen," commented Olivia.  
  
"Not that we wouldn't be sorry to see him leave ..." said Sophia hastily, watching Sissy's eyes flash at what she perceived as an insult against the professor.  
  
"I would rather you didn't say that," Sissy told them, inclining her chin slightly. "I happen to think that he _may_ recover, and if not, he still might be able to stay on."  
  
"Oh, Sissy, please don't get your hopes up. You don't understand how difficult it would be for him," said Sophia.  
  
"And you do?" asked Sissy in calm, cold tones.  
  
"My Uncle Julius was blind, and he could only manage the simplest spells without having accidents," Sophia answered.  
  
Sissy had to concede that point. Sophia obviously knew more about such matters than she did.  
  
"He could still teach though ..." she said, trying not to give up hope so easily.  
  
"I don't see how," said Olivia, shaking her head.  
  
"You're all against him," said Sissy almost incredulously, rising from her seat at the window and clenching her hands at her side.  
  
"We aren't against anyone, Sissy. We just ... have a different perspective," said Sophia in a mollifying tone.  
  
"You never liked him!" she accused all three of them.  
  
"Do you _know_ what kind of marks we received?" asked Corinna with a steady frown.  
  
"Because you're disasters in his subject!" she countered almost instantly.  
  
"Well, I wonder why," said Olivia. "Is because he chooses favorites? Is it because he teaches the class just to the top students, leaving the rest of us to muddle along on our own? Is it because he's so cynical and critical ... and bitter that it's painful to do anything in that class?" Olivia exploded, causing both cats in the room to run for the cover of Corinna's bed at the sudden loud outburst.  
  
Sissy drew herself up to her full height and said, "You're just jealous. That's what this is about." Somehow she managed to keep her calm as she made the accusation. Her tone was icy and almost neutral.  
  
Sophia moved to intervene, but Olivia was off again before she could even open her mouth.  
  
"Jealous? When I have higher marks than you in Potions, Charms, _and_ Herbology?" Olivia asked.  
  
"I hardly think your Herbology marks are anything to boast about."  
  
"Better than yours!" seethed Olivia.  
  
Sissy sneered and said, "But there's always Transfigurations, isn't there, Olivia? Hmm?"  
  
That was a rather low blow as Olivia's marks in Transfigurations were hardly what Sissy was getting it. That had been the subject that had caused her to venture from the Aerie and put all of them in harm's way.  
  
"I think that's about enough," said Sophia seriously. "I don't want to hear another word unless it's something nice."  
  
"Why don't we change the subject?" questioned Corinna uneasily. "I mean, what do you suppose we'll be doing for our detentions?" she asked.  
  
"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing," said Sophia in a slightly strained, but conversational tone.  
  
Sissy and Olivia merely continued to glower at each other in silence. Sophia imagined that it wouldn't have been nearly so bad if they had not gone after each other's marks. That always made an argument worse, more personal. And it was not as though they argued very much. Olivia usually reserved her temper for people outside their little group and for intimate objects. And Sissy normally would never have drawn her further into the fight. Sissy was much more cool-headed than that.  
  
"I bet he'll have me tidying his classroom," said Corinna, even though she rather doubted it. "Although, it's not as much of a hazard as the Charm's room," she added, looking at Olivia.  
  
She finally managed to take her eyes off Sissy as she answered, "Where is? I don't fancy cleaning up that place. The dust is going to be intolerable."  
  
"Well, at least you won't be scrubbing cauldrons!" said Sophia with a manufactured laugh.  
  
"Neither will you. He reserves that for his worst students," said Sissy with a slight smirk.  
  
"Well, I should find out tomorrow," said Sophia dubiously.  
  
"So shall we all," said Corinna with a yawn.  
  
  
In Martin's dormitory a rather different, but not entirely dissimilar scene was playing out between him and his five fellow first years, none of whom were ready to turn in for the night.  
  
"I heard you were nearly bitten by the vampire," said Middleton, who was somewhat stocky, but of rather average height, and even at the age of eleven gave the impression of superior strength.  
  
The other boys were gathering around as Middleton subtly bullied Martin into a corner, crowding him until he had backed himself into it.  
  
"Where did you hear that?" asked Martin evenly, trying not to feel intimidated, which was no mean feat.  
  
"From my step-brother's friend who knows Zabini," he answered.  
  
"Practically first hand then," Martin commented.  
  
"Is true?" asked Halliday from over Middleton's shoulder.  
  
Martin furrowed his brow, wondering what answer would make them leave him alone. He didn't like how they were pressing in, crowding around him with eager, but not very friendly looks on their faces. He thought they had all reached an understanding, that they had realized that he just wanted to be left alone, that he didn't want to answer any of their questions, not the ones about his father and certainly not about the vampire.  
  
Middleton shoved his shoulder hard and asked, "Well, Dumbledore, is it?"  
  
Obviously, the point had been missed somewhere along the way. He was more than a little surprised that they even knew to ask the question. Zabini didn't seem the sort to talk. But then, rumors had an odd way of traveling through Hogwarts like wildfire.  
  
"I suppose," he admitted reluctantly before Middleton could shove him again. He eased his hand toward his pocket, intending to go for his wand if needs be.  
  
"Not so fast," said Middleton, grabbing his hand and twisting it a little. "Prentice, get his wand," he ordered another one of the boys.  
  
"But ..." objected a smaller, freckle-faced first year.  
  
"_Now_, Prentice," said Middleton with an impatient snarl.  
  
"This really isn't necessary," said Dumbledore as the boy went through his pockets almost apologetically and removed his wand.  
  
He gave it to Middleton who tossed it to Wainwright, who laughed and smirked as he examined it.  
  
"What kind of core does it have?" he asked.  
  
Dumbledore made no reply until Middleton made a threatening gesture with his fist. This was getting out of control rather quickly.  
  
"Unicorn hair," Martin answered. He watched as Wainwright tossed the wand onto his bed in order to concentrate on the proceedings, apparently satisfied that it was well out of the way. "Do you mind letting me go?" he asked.  
  
"Who's stopping you?" asked Middleton, moving backward a pace.  
  
Martin felt a moment of relief as he stepped forward ... only to be shoved back against the wall again. The boys all laughed at him as he blinked hard. For a moment his ears were ringing.  
  
"Not so fast ... You haven't told us about the vampire yet," he said.  
  
"What do you want to know?" asked Martin. Surely if he told them what they wanted to know, they would leave him be and go back to their own business.  
  
"What'd it look like?"  
  
"I didn't get a very good look at it ... just tall and thin with red eyes and pale skin," said Martin, swallowing hard as he remembered its cold touch and rancid breath, which were things he was not ready to put into words, especially not with his house mates.  
  
"Did you try and capture it?"  
  
"Of course not," said Martin with a frown.  
  
"But you're more than half Gryffindor."  
  
"So?" he asked, feeling very annoyed. His tone earned him another shove from Middleton.  
  
"What were you doing out of the Aerie in the first place?" asked Halliday from behind the larger boy.  
  
Martin blushed to his ears as he struggled to explain that.  
  
"I was keeping look-out for the girls," he stammered.  
  
The boys all hooted at that, which only made him blush even harder. Middleton stopped laughing first and sneered.  
  
"The girls?" he question in a whining, mocking voice. "You certainly spend enough time hanging on to them, don't you? Why, you're practically a girl yourself, Dumbledore."  
  
"Am not!" Martin shouted furiously.  
  
The other first years practically roared with laughter, although Middleton only chortled and seemed pleased with himself.  
  
What happened next could only be explained by the fact that Martin had inherited a healthy dose of his mother's temperament, which was at times rather volatile. Wandless and outnumbered five to one, Martin hurled himself at Middleton, attempting to knock him down. At this point he felt as though he simply had nothing left to lose as they had already taken his wand and insulted dignity.  
  
He caught Middleton off-guard as the bully had not expected Martin to fight back and certainly not so ferociously. Middleton hit the floor with a satisfying thud that seemed to echo through the dormitory. Martin then scrambled to his feet and darted toward his bed and his wand. Once he had it in hand, he planned to try some of the spells he had watched Sissy practice with cool finesse.  
  
But he never quite made it that far as he was grabbed by Wainwright and Halliday long before he reached his bed.  
  
"Let me go!" Martin protested as they restrained him.  
  
"That was stupid, Dumbledore," said Middleton, who was panting and looking more than a bit angry as he hauled himself up from the floor. "I was almost done with you," he said.  
  
Martin only glowered at him, not knowing what would happen next, but having the general idea that it would be neither pretty nor pleasant.  
  
"If you aren't careful, you're going to alert the prefects. That prat Ambrose lives practically on top of us," remarked Woodward, who had stayed out of it for the most part. He wasn't as imposing as Middleton, but he was the next largest boy in their year in terms of both weight and height.  
  
"Go back to your muggle books," Middleton snapped at Woodward as he grabbed Martin by the front of the robes. Halliday and Wainwright let go of him and stepped away.  
  
"It's _Shakespeare_," muttered Woodward as he tucked a worn book into his robes. He had obviously been reading before the interrogation began.  
  
Martin stared wide-eyed at Middleton as he drew back his fist. The blow seemed to come at him in slow motion, and he closed his eyes an instant before it landed, bloodying his nose. Middleton released him, and he fell to floor in a heap.  
  
"Stuck-up little toad," muttered Middleton before walking away.  
  
"Am not," Martin whispered, holding his smarting nose and trying not to let the tears leave his eyes as he remained on the floor.  
  
The sound of the other boys' retreating footsteps was one for which he was grateful as he pinched his bleeding nose and climbed shakily to his feet. Prentice and Woodward, whose beds were nearest to the door, gave him sympathetic looks.  
  
"The bleeding should stop on its own in fifteen minutes or so," said Prentice in a knowing and helpful tone.  
  
Martin considered just for a moment going to the prefects or something, but he knew that would make him nothing more than a tale-bearer. He had no choice, but to handle things as best he could on his own.  
  
"Thanks," said Martin dryly as he climbed into bed and drew the curtains. He examined his wand, making certain that it had not been damaged, and then reached for some parchment and a quill. He looked through a gap in the curtains at the other boys and pinched his nose again before deciding to pen a letter to his mother.  
  


* * *

A/N: Obviously there's some discord in the house of Eagles. I've tried to build up to this, but I'm not sure if I did it well enough.  
  
  
silversea: I have to agree. Blindness would be very bad. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
HeeroTomoe: Hmm... I don't think I ever read that book. Sounds interesting though. Blind or not? Well, you'll have to wait and see. Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	18. A tale of two detentions

Chapter Eighteen  
  
A tale of two detentions  
  
  
  
Martin was out of bed before any of his roommates early the following morning. For one thing, he had that detention with his father and wanted to send that letter to his mum. For another, he didn't exactly relish the thought of interacting with Middleton, nor any of the others for that matter. The very notion of doing so made him more than a little uneasy.  
  
As he looked in the mirror to comb his hair that morning, Martin winced as he noticed some light, but rather conspicuous bruising where Middleton had punched him. His face continued to smart just a bit from the blow. He hoped that his father wouldn't notice and wished in vain that he could conjure a glamour. But such skills were far beyond him at the moment. Martin added glamours to his mental list of things he wished that he could learn.  
  
Martin was out of the dormitory before any of the others woke up and that suited him just fine.  
  
  
Flitwick's instructions had been vague at best, so Martin made his way to his father's office, hoping that he would be waiting for him there. The door was slightly ajar and he heard voices inside, but he knocked nevertheless. Olivia might like to eavesdrop, but he wasn't too keen on it, especially when it came to his father, who had the uncanny ability of knowing when people were listening or watching.  
  
"Come in," called the voice of the elder Dumbledore.  
  
Martin stepped into the office to find his father and the headmaster obviously just finishing a discussion, one to which he imagined he was not supposed to be privy. Dippet looked dispirited and very unhappy as he shook his head.  
  
"I think I can buy us a few months at best, but it is only a matter of time," Professor Dippet informed Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes, do that, Armando," nodded Dumbledore with a slow nod.  
  
Dippet smiled, perhaps a bit tiredly, when he saw Martin in the doorway where he lingered uncertainly.  
  
"We can talk about this more later, Albus, when you are not otherwise occupied," said Dippet. "The matter will keep for the moment," he added with a parting nod before stepping past Martin and into the corridor.  
  
"We'll be going down to the classroom now. I have prepared your detention there," said Dumbledore. The he frowned as he looked at Martin's face. "What happened?" he questioned.  
  
"I'm sorry?" asked Martin, despite the fact that he knew what his father meant.  
  
"Your face appears to be either dirty ... or bruised," Dumbledore noted, stepping closer to discover that it was the latter.  
  
"I fell out of bed last night," said Martin, although he found the lie rather unconvincing himself. It was far better than telling his _Gryffindor_ father that he had let a boy in his own house punch him.  
  
"I see ..." said Dumbledore, peering over his spectacles with a look of vague disapproval.  
  
Martin expected his father to pursue the matter further and felt great relief when he did not. They walked to the Transfigurations' classroom in companionable silence as Martin's uneasiness began to dissipate.  
  
Dumbledore couldn't help but glance surreptitiously at his son as they reached the classroom. He could recognize the aftermath of a bloody nose as well as any long term professor. He just wondered who had given it to Martin and for what reason. Of course, he also knew that Martin would not be very forthcoming. The elder Dumbledore had been in his share of fights, with wand and fists, while in school, and he had never once snitched to a professor, so why expect anything different from Martin?  
  
Ushering Martin into the classroom, Dumbledore lit the room with a wave of his wand. At the front on the room, Dumbledore's desk was littered with small objects: twigs, leaves, daisies, and a rubber duck. These were a selection of objects that Martin's class had been using for their practical work.  
  
"You will be doing some transfigurations for me, Mister Dumbledore," said the professor, adopting the manner that he used in the classroom.  
  
"Yes, sir," said Martin, following his father to the desk where the elder Dumbledore took a seat.  
  
"Please begin with the twig," said Dumbledore.  
  
Martin picked up the item from the desk and withdrew his wand from within his pocket.  
  
"May I ask a question?" he asked.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"This is supposed to be punishment, isn't it?" asked Martin with a slight frown. Dumbledore nodded in affirmation, but his expression changed to one of mild amusement. "Then I don't understand," Martin said.  
  
"I thought we would both be better served if this were an educational detention. You are, and quite understandably, lagging behind in my class. I want you to have the opportunity to improve your marks," answered Dumbledore. "And I imagine that my presence is the thing inhibiting you, so perhaps that could be ... altered," he added.  
  
"You do make me nervous," Martin admitted, taking a deep breath.  
  
"I required some time before I realized that. I thought at first that your mother and I had made an error requesting in your advancement," said Dumbledore with a slow, understanding nod. "Now, please transfigure that twig into a tie pin," he instructed.  
  
  
About an hour later Martin found himself feeling substantially more confident as he had managed to transfigure all of the objects on the desk successfully. At first it had been difficult with his father's brilliant blue eyes boring into him as he spoke the incantations. Martin found it quite disconcerting, but the feeling gradually went away as the elder Dumbledore offered him pointers and suggestions. By the end of the detention, Martin was doing exceptionally well.  
  
"Four more days of this will put you on par with Miss Bellew," commented Dumbledore, naming the top Transfigurations student of the second year.  
  
"Maybe ..." said Martin with a slight smile.  
  
"I imagine you will want to go to breakfast now," said Dumbledore, leaving his desk and vanishing the objects that littered it with a wave of his hand.  
  
"The girls will be expecting me," answered Martin, "but I should go to the Owlery first. I have a letter for mum."  
  
"Really? I imagine she will be very happy to hear from you," said his father with a soft smile.  
  
Martin shrugged and said, "I suppose." He didn't want to discuss the contents of the letter with his father.  
  
Dumbledore looked at the bruises on his face and asked, "Would you like me to make those less noticeable for you?"  
  
Martin gingerly touched his nose and asked, "With a glamour?"  
  
"Yes, that would be the best way," he replied.  
  
Martin considered the offer for a moment and realized that he would rather the girls not know what had happened. He knew that neither Sissy nor Olivia would accept his fabricated story. And he fancied that they wouldn't think twice about retribution, which was the last thing Martin wanted. Best that they not be the wiser.  
  
"All right," Martin agreed.  
  
Dumbledore drew his wand from his pocket and stepped closer to Martin. He spoke a quick incantation and slowly waved the wand across the bruised portion of his son's face until the marks grew lighter and lighter and they finally seemed to disappear altogether.  
  
"It should last until you go to bed tonight," nodded Dumbledore.  
  
"Thank you," said Martin with a nod, resisting the urge to touch his face.  
  
"Run along and send that letter. It will make your mother very happy to hear from you," he said, patting Martin on the shoulder and shooing him toward the door.  
  
Martin didn't think so, but he nodded and started off in the direction of the Owlery.  
  
  
Although he knew where it was, Martin had never been to the top of the Owlery before as he had not needed to send an owl to anyone as of yet. When he reached the top, he was pleasantly surprised to feel a cool morning breeze and delighted by the soft hooting of the birds, most of which had not long ago returned from a night of hunting. But that feeling of delight and mild awe disappeared as he reached into his bag and pulled out the carefully penned letter. He sighed softly.  
  
"I hope she understands," he said to himself.  
  
"Understands what?" asked a somewhat sulky voice.  
  
Martin started and looked up to see a thin, unpleasant looking man who was cleaning up after the owls. He had what appeared to be a permanent scowl on his rather ill-favored face. Martin knew him by sight as the caretaker's apprentice, although the man must have been nearly thirty years old, if not even older than that.  
  
"Understands what? Not that I particularly care, mind you," said Filch as he went about his work.  
  
"Oh, well, it's just a letter to my mum," stammered Martin with a slight blush.  
  
"I see," nodded Filch. "You're Professor Dumbledore's br... son, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Martin nodded.  
  
"You must be right happy here then being a professor's son and all," he remarked.  
  
Martin shifted his feet and toyed with the letter in his hand.  
  
"Not really," he replied softly.  
  
"And just why not? Surely all of the other professors favor you," said Filch in a very disapproving tone of voice.  
  
Martin looked up with a snap. Such a thought had never occurred to him, and the suggestion had caught him more than a little off-guard.  
  
"They do not!" he objected. "And I don't expect them to."  
  
Filch regarded him coolly for a moment before he shrugged, "You never can tell, but I see you're a Ravenclaw. That explains a lot. You're not exactly cut from the same cloth as the professor, are you?"  
  
"I suppose I'm not," Martin admittedly a little sadly.  
  
"Just as well. I hear that he raised cane when he was in school," said Filch. "You're nothing like that, I hope."  
  
"Er, well, I try not to be, sir," he replied, thinking of all the trouble he had landed in so far, and how very little if any of it had been his fault.  
  
"Good," said Filch gruffly as he finished his task. "See that you don't linger up here after you send that owl," he commented and made his way toward the stairs.  
  
When he had gone, Martin unfolded his letter to read it one more time. He had almost made up his mind not to send it, but he still felt as though it might be the best solution.  
  
"_Dear mum, I'm not having a very good time of it at school. Is there any way that I could come home? I'm so miserable here, and all the boys in my year hate me. I don't think I'll ever be able to make friends with them. Or even be able to live in peace with the lot of them. I would much rather be back home with you and my tutors. I'm so unhappy here. Please don't tell Father, but is there anything you can do to let me come back home? Love, Martin._"  
  
With great deliberation Martin chose a school owl and bound the parchment to one of its legs and sent it on its way. He felt almost sick, knowing how much he would miss the girls, who had become very dear to him, and his studies. He would even miss the frightening adventures he had had, in a manner of speaking, and the classes that he wasn't very good at. But he wasn't sure what would happen to him if forced to spend the rest of the term, and six terms after that, with Middleton and the rest of the lot. He left the Owlery with a very heavy heart.  
  
  
During classes that day their detentions were never far from the girls' minds, which was not at all surprising given the nature of those detentions. None of them had ever received one before as they had never had the grave misfortune of getting caught, at least not by a professor or staff member willing to deal out punishment, so it was an entirely novel experience for all of them. The odd thing was that they weren't particularly looking forward to them with dread, especially after listening to Martin's account that morning -- and he had seemed oddly downhearted for someone who had just had an extra lesson -- but with a certain anticipation that was neither brought on by anxiety nor precisely what could be called excitement, but rather with curiosity.  
  
The four witches parted at the bottom of Ravenclaw tower as their detentions were being held in divers parts of the castle. Sophia, for instance, was going all the way down to the dungeons where she and the others had already spent two hours having double Potions with Professor Krohn.  
  
When she arrived, after wading through a crowd of surly Slytherin sixth years, she found Krohn marking essays at his desk with a look of distaste marring his heavy, but otherwise handsome features. He had taken removed the leathern thong from his hair allowing it to cascade into his face as he hunched over the parchments and scribbled with an elegant gray quill. He pursed his lips in what appeared to be annoyance as he looked up.  
  
"Miss Colville, I believe classes ended some minutes ago. Two points for your tardiness. See that it does not become a habit," he said in a sullen voice.  
  
"Yes, sir," she replied. Sophia was very even tempered, but the loss still stung. If only she could have avoided the delay the students in the corridors, mostly his students, had caused her.  
  
"You will note," he began, gesturing to a table to his right and her left, "that I have a large quantity of daisy roots that need to be chopped. It is for a potion that the first year Gryffindor class will be preparing tomorrow, and I dare not trust them with sharp objects just yet. Please _neatly_ chop the roots into small pieces and place them in the containers also on the table."  
  
This, of course, beat cauldron scrubbing by a long shot, although it was still menial work and not very educational.  
  
"Of course," she nodded, making her way to the table.  
  
"And if you cut yourself, please be aware that the juice from the roots will make it sting quite painfully," Krohn warned her with a bit of a sneer.  
  
"I will be careful then."  
  
"See that you are. Also, do refrain from talking while you work. I am very busy," he said, gesturing to the parchments on the desk in front of him.  
  
Sophia nodded silently and went to work.  
  
  
Sometime later the sound of fluttering wings from a high window, which would have been at ground level, disturbed her concentration and caused her to look up from the roots, which she had been chopping in a very methodical manner. Krohn lifted his eyes as well as a large raven with a letter tied to its leg flew into the classroom with a loud, unpleasant caw. Sophia gulped and held her breath. Ravens were used only to deliver the worst news. It landed upon the corner of the professor's desk and glared at him insolently.  
  
Sophia watched as he took the message from the bird with trembling hands. Some of the color seemed to have drained from his face. He waited until the raven was gone to open the letter and begin to read it. She could not tear her eyes away as she watched him, his eyes moving from side to side as he read. Then Krohn simply folded the letter again and laid it on his desk.  
  
"Miss Colville, you may go now. Your detention is over," he said to her in a strained voice that seemed to raise an octave inadvertently as he spoke.  
  
"Sir, is anything the matter?" she questioned.   
  
Sophia wiped her hands on her robes and took a step in his direction.  
  
He slowly raised his eyes from the desk. She could feel them upon her, even obscured though they were by his hair. He cleared his throat before he said anything more.  
  
"There has been a death in my family. It seems that my father has died," he informed her.  
  
"I'm very sorry, sir," she said awkwardly.  
  
"Then you did not know him, but nevertheless, thank you for your condolences. As I said before, you may leave _now_ and return tomorrow afternoon," said Krohn more forcefully.  
  
Sophia knew that she had better go or else possibly face his temper, which was a very unpleasant prospect.  
  
"Yes, sir," she said quietly, walking to the door, which slammed just behind her. She didn't know quite what to make of it, but she knew that he wanted to be alone. She could hardly blame him, even after his callous statement regarding his father.  
  
  
Sophia was the first to finish her detention and chose to await the others in the common room. There was no sign of Martin, but she imagined that he had gone to the library while it was still light outside and he would not need an escort. She considered this rather sensible and debated joining him. But by the time this crossed her mind, Olivia and Corinna were both coming in through the portrait hole. The former looked rather dusty and the latter rather pensive.  
  
"For a man who knows more that twenty different types of cleaning charms, Professor Flitwick's classroom is rather a mess," observed Olivia as she took a seat and smiled at Sophia.  
  
"Very instructive then?" she asked.  
  
"Of course," said Olivia with a rather tired smile.  
  
"What about you?" Sophia asked Corinna, who was staring out the window.  
  
"Professor Mallaghan and I mostly talked. He showed me a few books on visions, dreams, and prophesies, but I didn't have to do any work," she said, admitting the last part rather sheepishly.  
  
"Anything of note?" asked Sophia.  
  
"Not really, but it's ... nice to read something on the subject. He loaned me one of the books. I plan to read it when I have the time. Speaking of which, I'll have to be off to practice in a moment," said Corinna with a soft sigh.  
  
"Will we be meeting you here or in the Great Hall?" asked Olivia.  
  
"There," said Corinna, hoisting herself up from her seat.  
  
"Have fun," said Olivia cheerfully.  
  
Corinna just gave her a dirty look and left for Quidditch practice.  
  
"That'll be you next year," commented Sophia.  
  
"Both of us, unless Corinna decides not to play, which isn't likely," said Olivia quite confidently.  
  
"Don't be so sure."  
  
"She will love the game once she actually plays."  
  
"And when is that?"  
  
"In just eleven days. The last Saturday before Halloween."  
  
"Which are you looking forward to more?" asked Sophia.  
  
Olivia seemed to think about it before answering, "The game, definitely the game. And you?"  
  
"I think ... Halloween. It's one of my favorite holidays. Everything's so festive, and everyone is so happy," answered Sophia. For some reason she thought of Professor Krohn and his letter and felt strangely sad again.  
  
"Yeah, happy," scoffed Olivia, seeing the look that came over Sophia's face. "What ever is the matter?" she asked with a puzzled look.  
  
"Professor Krohn received a letter while I was having detention. His father died," she answered.  
  
"No wonder you got back before us. I imagine he started hexing everything in sight," said Olivia.  
  
Sophia just blinked at her for a moment before saying, "Just the opposite. He handled it quite well actually, but I do feel sorry for him."  
  
"Well, you would," shrugged Olivia. "I mean, it's terrible and all, but I'm just surprised the man _has_ a father."  
  
"Had," Sophia corrected coolly.   
  
None of her friends had the same appreciation for the professor or his subject that she did. In the cases of Olivia and Sissy that attitude manifested itself in indifference or outright dislike of the potions' master.  
  
"Right ..." said Olivia. "But at least we don't have class with him for a day or so. I'd hate to see him blow up."  
  
"I'll agree with you there," admitted Sophia.  
  
"I suppose we should hit the books until Sissy comes to join us," said Olivia, reaching for her things.  
  


* * *

A/N: Ravens are traditionally thought to be omens of bad news. Gandalf Stormcrow anyone? (Almost a raven anyways.) I thought a raven would be more appropriate than a regular owl delivery.  
  
  
Michelle: I don't believe that letter will go unremarked. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: Yes, lots of fighting. Thanks for the review!  
  
Snuffles00: I will have to work on their characterizations then. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
H.M.T.: I can't really answer that question, but I like the sentiments. Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	19. News and messages

Chapter Nineteen  
  
News and messages  
  
  
  
Sophia and Olivia were both a trifle concerned when Sissy did not return before it was time to go and meet Corinna. Martin had already returned to the common room, still seeming strangely out of sorts, and had joined the pair in their little nook. Sophia had asked a few careful questions and received insufficient answers. But as time wore on, her thoughts had turned to Sissy, who seemed to be serving the longest detention in the history of Hogwarts. And that bothered her since they had no specifics on whom she was serving it with nor even where. Sissy had not bothered to show them the note Flitwick had slipped her after class that morning.  
  
"I suppose we had better go to dinner now or else Corinna will be eating alone," said Sophia with a sigh.  
  
Martin and Olivia agreed, knowing that Sissy would meet them there if she were late. She knew when the practices ended just as well as they did.  
  
  
They were in for a surprise when they walked into the Great Hall. Sissy was already there, sitting alone and poking at her roast with mild disinterest. They all exchanged puzzled looks and joined her, but she didn't bother looking up as they sat down. Sophia wasn't even sure that she realized they were there. She merely continued to prod the roast and sigh very softly to herself.  
  
"Sissy?" asked Martin hesitantly as he sat down directly across from her.  
  
"He's blind, you know," she said in a low whisper.  
  
"That's terrible!" said Corinna, who had followed them into the hall, as she sat down with the rest of them.  
  
"Yeah," said Sissy dryly, "but as he informed me, at least he won't need his glasses anymore."  
  
"Is ...?" Sophia began to ask.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it right now," Sissy interrupted shortly, stabbing her roast.  
  
"All right," agreed Sophia.  
  
~  
  
  
Sissy had spent much of the afternoon with Professor Knowles, but the passage of time had hardly mattered to her. Madam Pomfrey had assigned her to help the professor learn to navigate with the aid of a cane. They had used the empty hospital wing for practice. He would barely speak to her. Perhaps, she thought, he resented her presence. Bumbling about while a student watched and offered well-meaning advice was one of the last things she imagined he would ever have wanted to do. She felt very nearly the same. It was terrible to watch him take slow cautious steps, sweeping the cane before him, only to collide with the corner of a bed and give a muted cry of pain or surprise.  
  
In the end he had hurled the cane across the room, nearly spearing Sissy with it, and fumbled his way back to his hospital bed in defeat and frustration.  
  
"I'll never be able to manage," he said to the wall in front of him.  
  
"Give it time, sir," she had replied. But there had been a sinking feeling in her stomach even as she said those words.  
  
"I have the rest of the week or Professor Dippet must find a replacement for me," he had answered with a note of finality in his voice.  
  
The sinking feeling turned into a block of ice, and she wondered, not for the first time, why in the name of Merlin she had been given the task of helping him when it was all too obvious that he didn't want help from anyone. He only wanted to give up. Looking at his unfocussed, staring eyes, she could hardly blame him. She was sure she would have felt the same. Sissy could hardly believe that she was going to lose such a great professor, but he seemed to be a hopeless cause.  
  
In the end she had fetched his cane and returned it to him, pressing it into his hand and not trusting herself to speak.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Howard," he said shortly, "but I believe your time is up."  
  
"Same time tomorrow," she reminded him in the steadiest voice she could manage.  
  
He turned toward her and glared at her with sightless eyes, but said nothing to contradict the statement.  
  
After that she had ventured onto the grounds to stroll by the lake while the light lasted until her wandering feet returned her to the castle and to the Great Hall.  
  
~  
  
  
Sissy gave her uneaten food one last stab before she said, "It's just so senseless."  
  
Her friends looked uneasy and ate their meal in silence. They may not have felt so strongly about the professor as Sissy, but they couldn't help agreeing with her. It was a great tragedy.  
  
  
The next morning at breakfast the quintet of Ravenclaws walked into a Great Hall filled with students who were crowded around copies of _The Daily Prophet_ and whispering to each other. The most popular newspaper of the wizarding world seldom attracted so much attention. Even when the article about the vampire attack had been featured, copies had only been passed around, read, and returned with some discussion. This was something else entirely.  
  
"Bother it all. I knew I should have renewed that subscription," said Sissy as they took their seats.  
  
"Go see if Li Chang will loan you his copy," suggested Corinna, noting that the cluster around their year mate seemed to be breaking up.  
  
If they had not all been so curious, Sissy would never have dreamed of asking Chang for anything, but she was dying to know what the fuss was all about.  
  
She walked down the table just as Chang folded the paper and put it aside.  
  
"Could my friends and I borrow that for a minute?" she asked him.  
  
Chang looked up at her and smiled before handing her the paper.  
  
"Of course, Howard, have at it," he told her. "But it's not good news," he added in a cautionary tone.  
  
"I didn't think they printed that kind anyway. Thank you."  
  
"Don't mention it," he said before returning to his breakfast.  
  
Sissy didn't look at the newspaper until she had returned to her place at the table.   
  
The headline read: ARMANDO DIPPET INCOMPETENT? BOARD OF GOVERNORS ORDER INQUIRY.  
  
Corinna inhaled sharply while others just gaped. She was the first to glance toward the high table where Professor Dippet was eating. He looked troubled as did all of his colleagues, except Krohn and Knowles, who were both absent from the table. Professor Dumbledore, for example, was frowning at his kippers.  
  
"We're going to have a new headmaster before the end of the year," said Corinna. Her mouth went dry even as she spoke. It was the first premonition she had had since the previous Friday night.  
  
"You're sure?" asked Sissy, looking up at the high table too.  
  
"Yes," Corinna whispered, desperately wishing that she could be wrong or that she didn't really know.  
  
  
Those thoughts stayed with Corinna throughout the day and bothered her so much that it affected her performance in Transfigurations where they were turning forks into fish. It required several disheartening attempts before she managed it, much to Sissy's amusement, although the other girl had not fared any better. At the end of the day Corinna was glad to be trudging up to see Professor Mallaghan as she wanted very much to tell him what she had foreseen.  
  
  
"Good day to you, Miss Bellew," the professor of Divinations greeted her as she emerged from the secret staircase and into the classroom where he taught.  
  
"And to you, professor," she replied, feeling immediately cheered as he ushered her over to a tea set.  
  
"I've made a spot of tea for us. I hope you don't mind that I've taken the liberty," he said as he offered her a seat.  
  
"Not at all. Thanks," she replied.  
  
"I thought we could perhaps read the tea leaves. It'll be a nice warm up for me as my third years are doing that just next week," he informed her.  
  
"I think I've seen enough for one day already," she said with a slight wince.  
  
"Really? And what do you know, Miss Bellew?" Mallaghan inquired as he prepared their tea, ignoring her comment, in a manner of speaking.  
  
"That Headmaster Dippet will be leaving us ... before the end of the year," she replied.  
  
"Ah ... I take it you have read the morning paper then," he commented.  
  
"Yes," she nodded.  
  
"You shouldn't let such things cloud your vision. Professor Dippet has got out of worse situations than this before," Joseph assured her confidently.  
  
"Really?" she asked, taking a proffered cup of tea and sipping it slowly.  
  
"Goodness, yes," he answered with a chuckle.  
  
Corinna felt a little relieved, but a nagging voice told her that she had no reason to be.  
  
"I am wrong sometimes," she admitted.  
  
"Most Seers are," he said with a nod, drinking his own tea.  
  
"Has anyone ever calculated the odds?" Corinna asked hesitantly. She thought this might make a nice project for Olivia, if she chose to take Divinations next term.  
  
"No ... I don't believe they have. That would be interesting to know," Mallaghan replied thoughtfully. "But I suspect that no one except the truly great Seers would have odds higher than three out of four."  
  
When they finished their tea Joseph gave her instructions on how to go about reading the tea leaves. After they had both swirled the tea around and upended the cups, Joseph and Corinna peered into them.  
  
"How do you tell what it means?" she asked, having never read tea leaves before.  
  
"You find shapes in the remaining leaves and interpret their meaning," he said, turning his cup around and around with a furrowed brow. "I've got a ... sun, or a half of one anyway," he decided. "Of is it a boat? No ..." he said, squinting. "A moon at half phase?"  
  
"What about me?" asked Corinna, holding out her teacup to him.  
  
He stared at it blankly for a moment before muttering something unintelligible and adding, "Just let me get my book."  
  
Corinna looked at the soggy dregs and sighed as Mallaghan scrambled toward the nearest bookcase to retrieve a copy of _Your Tea Leaves and You_ from a high shelf.  
  
"Let me have another look," he said as he returned to his chair and opened the book on his knee. He studied the grounds for another moment and flipped through the dusty tome. Finally he asked Corinna, "What do _you_ see, lass?"  
  
"Nothing," she answered.  
  
"Er, maybe we ought to try again. Another cup?"  
  
"All right."  
  
  
When Corinna left to go to Quidditch practice, she was feeling quite jittery as she had drunk a grand total of five cups of moderately strong tea. She had not had the heart to ask Professor Mallaghan to stop pouring as he consistently could not make heads or tails or any other shape out of her tea leaves. He had used three books on the subject to aid him, but to no avail, and when Corinna left, he seemed to be muttering darkly to himself in Gaelic, which was rather disturbing.  
  
On her way out of the castle, she ran into Olivia, who was humming a happy tune after spending an hour or so learning Cheering Charms from Professor Flitwick, who after three or four charms admitted that he had been using them on himself on a daily basis for nearly eighty years. Olivia could hardly find fault with that, especially after giving a couple of them a try. Corinna could not remember the last time Olivia was in such high spirits.  
  
"Do have fun at practice! It's not raining or anything," Olivia told her with a slight giggle.  
  
Corinna merely gave her an odd look and told her that she would see her at dinner before going on her way, still feeling quite jittery.  
  
  
Albus Dumbledore was grading essays in his office when a Ministry owl flew through the window and landed deftly on his desk. The phoenix resting on a perch nearby, his companion since early childhood, gave it a funny sort of stare, almost as though it were wondering what the little gray-brown owl would taste like. But as the phoenix had returned from an extended hunting trip just that afternoon, he made no move toward the other bird, which was glaring rather impertinently at Dumbledore.  
  
But the gaze of the owl was not what caused him to drop his quill, but rather what the bird was clutching: a bright red envelope. It was a Howler, and it was already beginning to smoke. Fawkes, having noticed it as well, was already edging toward the far end of his perch with an anxious look in his eyes.  
  
Dumbledore had no choice. He cast a Silencing Spell on his office to contain the noise to come and swiftly ripped open the envelope.  
  
"ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE! I AM ASHAMED OF YOU! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW UNHAPPY OUR SON IS RIGHT NOW? I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO LOOK OUT FOR MARTIN! BUT, NO! HE IS MISERABLE AND WANTS TO COME HOME! FROM HOGWARTS! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN LETTING THEM DO TO MY LITTLE BOY? AND FURTHERMORE, WHY DOESN'T HE FEEL THAT HE CAN TELL YOU THAT HE'S THIS UNHAPPY? I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION! I DEMAND THAT YOU DO SOMETHING! AND YOU HAD BETTER, OR BY MERLIN, I WILL!" screamed the voice of his adoring wife before the Howler exploded, singeing his beard.  
  
After he had put out his beard and cleaned up the ashes left by the Howler, which had left his ears ringing, Dumbledore sat down in one of the chairs by the window and rubbed his eyes. He had had no idea that it was that bad for Martin. Then he remembered the bruises from the day before and felt very guilty. But he wasn't sure what course of action to take. One thing was certain. He needed to speak to his son, and he didn't think it could wait until morning.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Sissy was serving her second detention with Professor Knowles, although since he had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her there, she had begun to consider Madam Pomfrey in charge of the matter. Knowles had crawled into bed again and turned his back to her, leaving his cane on the floor. It was pretty obvious that he had no intention of cooperating. He was simply going to curl up and die. Or at least curl up.  
  
"Cyrus, you are not behaving sensibly," said Madam Pomfrey in a very serious tone.   
  
Sissy had fetched her to let her know what was going on, and because she did not think that she could handle the professor on her own.  
  
"Oh, I'm not? That's too bad," said Knowles over his shoulder as he continued to lie on his side in bed.  
  
With that Pomfrey conjured a bucket of water and levitated it to a position just a few feet in the air above the professor.  
  
"I'm giving you 'til the count of three to get out of that bed and stop acting like a child," she told him curtly.  
  
"And then you'll what?" he asked.  
  
"Professor, there's a pail of water just above you right now," Sissy warned him.  
  
"You wouldn't," Knowles hissed.  
  
"One," said Pomfrey.  
  
"I'll never be able to walk around with that thing!" he protested, sitting up and narrowly missing hitting his head on the floating pail. Pomfrey levitated it higher, and Sissy bit her lip.  
  
"Two."  
  
"Fine," he relented angrily, "threaten a blind man."  
  
His foot nearly slipped on the cane that was lying on the floor as he stood. Pomfrey vanished the bucket. Whether she would have used it or not, Sissy would never know. She rather suspected that the mediwitch would have.  
  
Knowles picked up his cane and snarled, "Now what?"  
  
"Miss Howard will assist you in more practice. I expect you to leave the hospital wing tomorrow," she said firmly.  
  
  
The door was wide open this time when Martin arrived at his father's office, having been summoned by a house elf. Dumbledore was pacing in very precise steps from the perch of his preening phoenix to the far window and back again with an inscrutable look on his face. Martin thought he looked worried or perplexed or a little of both. The elder Dumbledore paused when he realized his son had arrived.  
  
"Close the door, please, Martin," he instructed. Martin had a bad feeling about this meeting, but he did as he was asked of him. "Come, have a seat," said Dumbledore, motioning toward the couch. Martin followed. His father sat down heavily next to him, removed his half-moon spectacles, and rubbed his eyes. "I received a letter from your mother," he said after a moment.  
  
"She told you," said Martin flatly. He immediately knew what had happened.  
  
"I dare say she did," replied Dumbledore.  
  
"I asked her not to. There was no reason ..." said Martin miserably.  
  
"She thought it was for the best, I imagine," said Dumbledore, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner."  
  
"Why? There isn't anything you can do about it without making me look like a spoiled brat," said Martin, hunching forward and resting his chin on his hands.   
  
It seemed like a lose-lose situation to the young Ravenclaw. If he didn't say anything, there would be trouble with his year mates, who had thankfully resumed ignoring him. If he told his father and his father told Flitwick, he was a whining little tale-bearer who couldn't stick up for himself.  
  
"Perhaps, but if you would have talked to me about it, maybe you would have felt better," said Dumbledore.  
  
"None of the boys in my year like me. How would talking about that help anything?"  
  
"I think it would be better than keeping something like that inside," offered Dumbledore, gently rubbing his son's back as he urged him to open up.  
  
"I don't know," sighed Martin noncommittally.  
  
"Did one of them hit you?" asked Dumbledore carefully.  
  
Martin gave him a sidewise glance and said, "I'm not telling you which one."   
  
That was as good as a 'yes' to the professor, but he had been almost certain that that had been the case. In anyone else Dumbledore would have admired the stubbornness and stoicism, but he would rather Martin had told him everything.  
  
"Fine," said Dumbledore.  
  
"I don't understand why they don't like me, but none of them do," Martin admitted. Then he closed his eyes. "Well, maybe I do, but it's so silly," he said quietly.  
  
"They don't need to have a reason, Martin."  
  
"They called me a ... a girl and a ... a stuck-up toad," he confessed, not realizing how much the barbs truly stung until he spoke them out loud.  
  
"You would think that bullies in Ravenclaw house would be more imaginative than that," Dumbledore commented, but he knew quite well how much such words could hurt an eleven-year-old boy.  
  
Dumbledore understood well why that had called Martin a girl, although as a pejorative, it was a rather weak one, in his opinion. But then he was married to a female Auror. The boys in Martin's year probably didn't understand why he had four girls, and older ones at that, for friends. Dumbledore couldn't exactly explain it himself. But this was not the taunt that worried him.  
  
The professor knew his son well enough to be able to say that Martin was most certainly not stuck-up. His life so far had been one of privilege perhaps, but he had been taught not to look down on people because they were poor or because some of their ancestors were muggles or any of that other nonsense.  
  
"Why did they call you stuck-up?" asked Dumbledore, choosing to leave out the rather irrelevant 'toad' portion of the gibe.  
  
Martin shifted uneasily as he looked up at his father. It was nearly impossible to explain, but he decided to make the attempt.  
  
"I suppose it's because I can't answer their questions and they figure it's because I don't want to tell them stuff," he answered.  
  
"What sort of questions?" asked Dumbledore with a frown.  
  
"About you mostly ... and the war," said Martin. "They want to know how you defeated Grindelwald," he added.  
  
"Ah, now it all makes sense," said Dumbledore as the realization hit him.   
  
The conflict was about the Ravenclaw sense of needing to know things and hurt feelings that were the result of that need being denied. Unless he was much mistaken. He imagined that they believed that Martin was refusing to answer their questions because he didn't want them to know things or because he didn't think they were good enough to hear stories about the war.  
  
Of course, Martin had never really asked about the Grindelwald conflict nor about the elder Dumbledore's part in it. Martin was born less than a year before its end, which had been the worst part of the war as both sides had become desperate. All of those who opposed the Dark Wizard had feared for their families. Dumbledore had married during the war, and then, not long thereafter, Martin had been born. Nothing had made Albus happier than holding his auburn-haired son in his arms for the first time, but with that happiness had come responsibility. He had known then that Grindelwald must be defeated or he would risk losing the two people he cared about the most, his wife and son.  
  
He wanted to think that Martin didn't remember any of it. And until Martin began having nightmares about the war when he was four years old, Dumbledore had been free to think that. Then he had learned otherwise.  
  
"What should I do?" asked Martin expectantly, interrupting his father's thoughts.  
  
"If you want to answer their questions ..."  
  
"I don't have the answers."  
  
"Do you want them?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
Martin bowed his head and replied, "This is why I wasn't fit to be in Gryffindor. I don't really want to know about the war. Everything I've heard makes it sound so terrible. And Grindelwald ... my friends are afraid even to speak his name, which is so silly, of course."  
  
"The war was terrible," Dumbledore admitted.  
  
"Did you duel with him, father?" Martin asked hesitantly.  
  
"Yes, and he nearly got the better of me several times. I was lucky to have Fawkes with me. I think that was my secret ... a loyal phoenix by my side ... and the thoughts of my family, you and your mother, waiting for me at home," said Dumbledore, squeezing his young son's shoulder.  
  
Martin gave him a lop-sided smile, but could hardly think of what to say.  
  
"Do you think if I told them that, they'd leave me alone?" he questioned.  
  
"Perhaps," said the professor hesitantly.  
  
"They really seem to admire you, even though you're ... from a different house and all," Martin told him.  
  
"Funny way of showing it," said Dumbledore, "giving my son a rough time of it."  
  
"I try to get along with them," said Martin with a muted sigh.  
  
"Do you still want to go back home?" his father asked.  
  
"No ... I think I'd miss the girls too much," he replied. But he really wanted to tell his father that he would miss him too much as well.  
  


* * *

A/N: This chapter was a little choppy, but I think a lot of stuff happened in it too. One probably explains the other.  
  
  
HMT: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
lama: Those are some good questions. I hope to answer most of them. Thanks for the review!  
  
silversea: I am going to go into that, just not very soon. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	20. A guide for the blind

Chapter Twenty  
  
A guide for the blind  
  
For most of the girls, and Martin, the remaining detentions seemed to speed by relatively painlessly. Sophia spent hers in somber silence, preparing ingredient for Professor Krohn, who seldom spoke more than five words during their time together. Corinna studied and discussed prophesies both modern and ancient with Professor Mallaghan, who always seemed rather pleased just to have the company. Martin began to excel at his extra Transfigurations lessons, which were increasingly helpful to him as he started more difficult exercises in class. Olivia had finished tidying the Charms' classroom and moved onto Flitwick's offices where he regaled her with tales from the end of previous century during which he had been a dueling champion, although he told her very little about his own dueling experiences. Only Sissy seemed somewhat unhappy with her detentions.  
  
Knowles remained recalcitrant and almost unwilling to leave the hospital wing. Sissy had walked with him from the wing to the Entrance Hall, but once he heard the sound of other students, he turned and immediately fled back to the hospital wing with Sissy at his heels.  
  
"I don't feel well," he complained, as though he had to justify himself to her. "Maybe tomorrow," said Knowles.  
  
But he was getting better. Madam Pomfrey had commented that he could already dress and feed himself, which given the fact that he had been injured not even a week before was quite an accomplishment. He simply lacked confidence, or rather, that was what Sissy believed.  
  
That Friday as she walked into the hospital wing, he seemed to be waiting for her, leaning slightly on his cane and looking morose.  
  
"Miss Howard, you are to accompany me to my office," Knowles instructed.  
  
"Of course, sir," she replied coolly, privately marveling that he had known the sound of her footsteps as she approached.  
  
"I need to pack up all my things as I will be leaving on Sunday. I trust you will be able to assist me," he said, starting toward the doors of the hospital wing.  
  
Sissy froze for a moment unable to believe what she had just heard. Was he going to give up without even a fight?  
  
"Yes, sir," said Sissy as she followed him.  
  
For the first time in days, she had to school her voice into the semblance of nonchalance. It would not come naturally to her that afternoon.   
  
"Do you want to leave?" she asked the professor as they made their way to the stairs, which he proceeded down very carefully and very slowly.  
  
"I have little choice," he snapped.  
  
"They're making you leave then?"  
  
"I cannot fulfill my obligations like this," he answered, feeling along the wall with one hand and holding his cane in the other.  
  
"Which obligations?" she questioned as they walked across the Entrance Hall. To the best of her knowledge this was as far from the hospital wing as he had been since the previous Friday night.  
  
Knowles was silent, perhaps pretending he had not heard the question. Sissy knew that pursing the matter not a good idea at the moment as they were entering the more crowded halls of the school and she had to keep an eye on him.  
  
His office was two floors above them, which meant passing through a crowded hallway and up two flights of stairs before winding their way through the corridors of the second floor. Sissy noticed students pointing as they walked, and why not? Knowles couldn't see them, after all, but by the sour look on his face, she knew that he could hear them as they whispered behind their hands. She wanted to tell the gaggle of Slytherin first years following them to leave off, but she couldn't do so without attracting even more attention to the problem, and to Professor Knowles, who was struggling to keep his head held high.  
  
They made it to the last flight of stairs without incident, but that was as far as they made it. The stairs, once they were in the middle of them, suddenly changed, sending Knowles to his knees as he wasn't expecting it. Sissy grabbed his arm to keep him from pitching over the side as the staircase whisked through the air before connecting with another corridor on the same level. She could hear the Slytherins on the landing below them laughing uproariously.  
  
"Get me out of here!" hissed Knowles, turning crimson with rage and embarrassment. "My office, the hospital wing, anywhere. I don't care, but away from here!" he said as he fumbled for his cane.  
  
Sissy pressed it back into his hand and hauled him to his feet with some exertion. She looked up the stairs to see that they were only yards from his office door. Had the stairs known and tried to help them? She could not be certain.  
  
"We're almost there," she said, placing his free hand on the railing. "Just up these last few steps," she urged.  
  
He nodded mutely and clambered up the stairs to the corridor where his office was located. The stairs immediately switched back to their former position.  
  
"How many of them were there?" he asked as he unlocked the door. Sissy was amazed at the ease with which he accomplished this. His hands remembered the key and the lock even if his eyes could not see them.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Students, laughing at me," he snapped, stumbling into the musty office.  
  
"I didn't count. Perhaps five," she lied. There had been six first years, two second years, and one of the rather irksome third years who had tried to torment Martin. All of them had been Slytherins.  
  
"Well, two more days ... and I'll be gone. They can find someone else to laugh at," he muttered, trying to feel his way around the room and banging into things in the process.  
  
This was the first opportunity that Sissy had to see Knowles' office. It was rather cluttered. There were piles of books stacked all around the room. She glanced at the titles and was surprised to find that they were on a wide variety of topics, not only subjects related to Defense Against the Dark Arts. There were books on gardening, how to play the lute, mathematics, genealogy, sword fighting and fencing, and even what appeared to be a few tattered muggle novels. Knowles was obviously a man of many interests and passions. She noted the latter when she saw a finely polished fencing saber hanging on the wall behind his desk.  
  
And his desk was the only part of the room that wasn't covered with books or stacks of parchments. It was rather neatly maintained, a patch of order amid chaos.   
  
Knowles made his way to his desk, ran his hands over the smooth surface, and sat down in his chair.  
  
"There should be a pair of traveling trunks," he told Sissy in a tired voice.  
  
Sissy looked around for a moment before noticing them behind a knee high wall of books, almost as though they were trying to hide there.  
  
"I see them," she acknowledged before walking over to the trunks. The keys were already in the locks.  
  
"Please open them and begin placing my books inside. Don't worry about being neat. The trunks will take care of themselves," he said with a sigh, turning toward the window almost as though he could feel the warmth of the late afternoon sun on his face.  
  
"With all due respect, sir," Sissy began, "I don't think you should go. I think you can still be a great Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
  
"Miss Howard, how old are you?" he asked without bothering to turn.  
  
"I'll be thirteen on the day before Halloween," she replied.  
  
"You are not old enough to understand ..."  
  
"Then make me understand, professor!" she said hotly as the emotions she felt, disappointment and confusion, bubbled forth from the depths of her heart. "Make me understand why my best teacher is leaving!" Sissy demanded.  
  
"Emotionalism is unbecoming, Miss Howard," he warned her half-heartedly, rubbing his forehead. "Please begin packing before I'm forced to summon a house elf to do it."  
  
"Some Gryffindor you are," she muttered, gathering an armload of books and stuffing them into the first trunk.  
  
"What did you say?" he asked sharply, turning in the direction of her voice.  
  
Sissy swallowed as she realized she had perhaps gone too far. She didn't have a temper to speak of. That was Olivia's department, but from time to time ... she said things that might have been better left unsaid.  
  
When she did not reply, Knowles asked, "How did you know?"   
  
After all, he treated his house affiliation like a closely guarded secret, and none of his students had been able to guess with such certainty before.  
  
"You can tell a leopard by its spots. Or in this case a lion by his foolhardiness and bravery," Sissy told him. She did not add that Dumbledore's behavior toward him had cinched it.  
  
Knowles rubbed his forehead tiredly and said, "Pomfrey thinks I could make it too. That I could still teach and function here. And Professor Krohn as well. Professor Dippet would even give me the chance. I'm ... unconvinced. I think a blind defense teacher is a disaster in the making. I can name a thousand contingencies that would make it so. And yet ..."  
  
"There _are_ people who believe in you, professor," she said.  
  
"Merlin knows why," he sighed loudly, "or what I have ever done to deserve it. Very well, remove those books from my trunk. I suppose I will be staying on ... temporarily ... until I'm certain about whether or not I can do my job. I can always give my notice at a later date," Knowles decided with a sour and slightly worried expression.  
  
"I'm glad, sir," she said, grinning, though he could not see it.  
  
"Ugh! Sentimentality," he said, but a slight, albeit anxious, smile was tugging at his lips.  
  
Meanwhile, Sophia, Olivia, and Martin were sitting in the common room poring over their Transfigurations' texts. The two witches were glad to see that Martin seemed to be getting the hang of it. He had improved immensely over the course of the week in both theory and practical application. They were both rather impressed, as were Sissy and Corinna, who was at Quidditch practice.  
  
"What are we going to do for her birthday?" asked Olivia, closing her book with a snap and stretching. She figured that they had earned a break.  
  
"Whose?" asked Martin.  
  
"Sissy's, of course," answered Olivia, rolling her eyes. "It's the thirtieth of October," she added.  
  
"We missed it last year because we weren't good friends yet, so we all covertly decided to make it up to her this year," Sophia explained.  
  
"I've already got her present," admitted Olivia a bit sheepishly. "But I thought we could sneak some food up from the kitchens that day. Well before dark, I mean, and have a bit of a party or something."  
  
"We could have it in the dormitory, but I don't fancy trying to get Martin up the stairs," said Sophia with a wry look.  
  
"Think of the scandal!" said Olivia in a mocking voice.   
  
Sophia just pursed her lips in silence and tried not to look too annoyed. They had already explained to Martin about the stairs to the girls' dormitory. He had been positively fascinated, though he couldn't understand the necessity for such a thing.  
  
"She's going to be twelve then?" asked Martin before it could go any further.  
  
"Thirteen," said Sophia. "She is the oldest one of us."  
  
"Acts like it too," said Olivia.  
  
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Sophia with suppressed laughter in her dark eyes.  
  
"Shouldn't she be a third year then?" asked Martin curiously.  
  
"She went to a special school for girls in France before coming here. Sissy's mum wanted her to finish up there more than anything, so her parents made a special arrangement with the headmaster. I don't know how, but Sissy started a year late," explained Sophia, who knew about these things because her mother taught at a similar, but less prestigious school. "Now, what did you get her?" she asked Olivia.  
  
"No telling, all right?" she asked them.  
  
"Of course not!"  
  
"It's a book ..." said Olivia, lowering her voice, "on advanced hexes and minor curses."  
  
"Olivia!" Sophia hissed.  
  
"She loves that sort of thing. I don't see the harm," protested Olivia, who had expected this sort of reaction from her best friend.  
  
Martin simply looked uncomfortable and kept his mouth closed. There was no need to get involved in the fight.  
  
"You don't see the harm? What about her reputation? Do you want people to think she's training to be a Dark Witch or something?" asked Sophia, managing to keep her voice low.  
  
"No one's going to think that! Look at her family: good witches and wizards one and all. And she needs outstanding marks in defense if she's going to follow her father into the Department of Mysteries," argued Olivia stubbornly.  
  
"I've never heard Sissy say that she wants to do that," said Sophia coolly.  
  
Olivia rolled her eyes and said, "But isn't it obvious?"  
  
"Reconsider the book, Olivia," said Sophia, shaking her head.  
  
"No, she'll really like it!" she replied.  
  
"I just hope it isn't too dangerous or illegal then."  
  
"Er, what are you going to get her, Sophia?" asked Martin before they could go another round.  
  
"She mentioned wanting another pair of gloves last winter," shrugged Sophia. "I can order a pair from London by owl."  
  
"She probably already has another pair," Olivia pointed out.  
  
Martin didn't know what he was going to do for Sissy's birthday. He had a small allowance from his mother, but he had never bought a present for a girl before. He thought about getting her a book, but not something as controversial as Olivia's choice, but he didn't know what else she might like. He was trying to decide whether to ask Sophia or Olivia or wait and ask Corinna, when Sophia looked over his shoulder and frowned.  
  
"Martin, do you know of a reason why those boys keep looking at you and then whispering among themselves?" she inquired. "Don't turn," she warned him.  
  
"Are they in my year?" he asked as his stomach dropped several inches.  
  
"Yes," she replied.  
  
Sophia glanced furtively at the four boys, who were sitting across the common room. They didn't appear to be doing anything. They were studying or playing Gobstones. One of them would simply glance over from time to time before leaning toward his friends and talking in a very low voice. It was the stocky boy from the Sorting ceremony. Middleton? She didn't have a lot to do with the first years, other than Martin, of course, but at that moment he looked like trouble, and so did his friends. They all appeared to be plotting something.  
  
"It's probably nothing," Martin told her, but Sophia noticed that his slightly ruddy complexion had turned at least three shades paler.  
  
"They bother you, don't they?" she asked.  
  
"Not really," he said, trying not to wince as he spoke.  
  
"Well, I think we should go to dinner before they put whatever they're planning into action," said Olivia, noticing the time. "We wouldn't want to keep Sissy and Corinna waiting."  
  
A lingering feeling of impending doom stayed with Martin all that evening, not leaving him for even a moment. He remained the common room long after the girls had gone to bed, although Corinna had turned in quite early because of practice the next day. It was the team's last weekend of training before their first Quidditch game against Slytherin. Martin took a deep breath as he climbed the stairs to the dormitory, hoping that he would still be around to see it.  
  
Middleton, Halliday, and Wainwright seemed to be waiting expectantly for him. Dumbledore clutched his wand in his pocket as he froze and waited for them to make a move.  
  
"I swear, if you interrupt my reading, I'll hex you," said Woodward from his bed, not bothering to look up from his book. His wand was lying next to him. He seemed to be quite serious.  
  
Wainwright and Halliday exchanged uncomfortable looks. Prentice had already ducked behind his bed.  
  
"We just wanted to have a conversation," said Middleton.  
  
"And purple spots on your arse, I presume," said Woodward evenly. He had yet to look up, but his free hand had moved closer to his wand.  
  
Middleton shifted uneasily, but the threat was enough for the other two, both of whom slouched toward their beds very quietly. They had better things to do than cross wands with Julian Woodward. Middleton still seemed to be debating, weighing the rewards and consequences in his mind.  
  
Martin couldn't understand why Woodward was helping him, but he was glad that the other boy's threats carried so much weight. Maybe _all_ of his roommates didn't hate him after all.  
  
"Fine," muttered Middleton, choosing to go to bed and read some of his Charms' book instead of harassing Martin, who was still wondering what they had had in store for him.  
  
Martin thought he caught a slight smirk on Woodward's face as his hand withdrew from his wand.  
  
"Thanks," said Martin quietly before going to bed.  
  
Woodward didn't bother acknowledging him.  
  


* * *

A/N: I know it's shorter, but the chapter before was longer. Very balanced approach, don't you think? I had something I wanted to say, but I forgot.  
  
HMT: Now, if I answered questions like, what reason would anyone have to read? *grin* All right. It might be some time before your questions are answered. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Paddycake: You like Mallaghan? I'm incredibly flattered. As for Martin's mother ... it might be some time before anyone discovers who she is (for sure). But I like it when people ask. I know the reasoning was shoddy, but Martin had failed to develop a relationship with his year mates ... which is probably the larger problem. Thank you for the review!  
  
silversea: Glad you liked the howler! Thanks for reviewing!  
  



	21. Quidditch and revenge

Chapter Twenty-one  
  
Quidditch and revenge  
  
  
  
The next week marked the beginning of Quidditch season at Hogwarts as the first game would be played that Saturday, and after the traumas and fright of the term thus far, everyone was certainly looking forward to the excitement of the game. Ravenclaw was slated to play Slytherin, and although Slytherin was favored to win, it was sure to be a close match.  
  
For Corinna all of this meant two things: practice was stepped up another notch and she practically stopped eating. This was hardly due to her captain's request that she lose weight. She simply couldn't eat with everyone around her buzzing about Quidditch and calculating odds for the game. Olivia was especially bad as she would scratch out ratios and equations for the others, clearly demonstrating that Ravenclaw was going to obliterate the other team, and that any bets on the Slytherin team should be made with extreme caution, or better yet, not at all. The gleeful look on her face made Corinna lose her appetite entirely.  
  
But Olivia wasn't the only one who could barely contain their excitement. Martin was looking forward to the first match of the season himself. The boys of his year had left him alone since Woodward had threatened intervention. Martin wasn't sure why, but they seemed to take Julian quite seriously. He had tried to talk to Woodward a few times, but had been rebuffed with curt answers and veiled threats. But at least things had returned to the way they were before the vampire attack. Martin didn't mind being ignored.  
  
Then again, Sissy didn't seem very enthusiastic about the beginning of Quidditch season as she was still concerned about Professor Knowles. He had begun teaching classes again that Monday. Sophia had been amazed that he would even consider doing so as soon as that and had said as much, but an icy glare from Sissy had silenced her. The classes had been a bit dull that week as Knowles had insisted that they spend most of the class time reading and answering theoretical questions about the material. The boys in the class, including Chang, were chafing a bit about this, but Sissy understood: Knowles was too nervous to demonstrate any of the spells, and was in midst of rewriting an entire term of lessons to accommodate that fact. She still believed that he was doing well, all things considered.  
  
When Saturday came after a long week of classes and very little excitement other than talk about Quidditch, Corinna had breakfast with the team for good luck before the game. It was an old tradition enjoyed by all of the houses. Olivia, Sissy, Sophia, and Martin ate together at the other end of the table. It was a relatively late breakfast because there had been no practice for Corinna that morning.  
  
"It's going to be a rough game," commented Sexton, the ill-tempered Chaser, as he ate his breakfast. He seemed to have no problems with _his_ appetite as he stuffed another fork full of eggs into his mouth.  
  
Corinna and a number of her teammates glanced toward the Slytherin table where the opposing team's Beaters were sitting with the rest of the team. MacNair and Jugson were quite imposing for fourth years. They were definitely tougher looking than Cole and Savage, the Ravenclaw Beaters.  
  
"We're up for it," said Ambrose, cramming a piece of toast into his mouth with gusto.  
  
Corinna prodded at her uneaten breakfast and said nothing.  
  
"Of course we are," agreed Parker. "We got them last year by fifty points, if you all remember," she added, shaking her fork at Sexton with a smile.  
  
"Most of us remember," said Ambrose, elbowing Cole, who had been knocked unconscious by a Bludger about ten minutes before North caught the Snitch.  
  
"One little mistake," he grumbled back before helping himself another pancake or two.  
  
Corinna wasn't sure how they did it. The nonchalance was amazing. They were about to face the second best team in the school, and were not especially expected to win this year, and they could eat and talk like it was just another day. Of course, she didn't realize that they were all nervous in their own way nor that they, as a very senior team, had played more than the average amount of games and had grown accustomed to pre-game jitters.  
  
  
The weather outside was cool and overcast when the players took to the field. Corinna's broom, despite taking it to Madam Hooch more than a week or so earlier, was still pulling slightly to the left and slow in the turns. She was grateful that her position required the minimum amount of movement compared to that of the other players.  
  
From her position at the goal posts, Corinna had a moment to survey the Slytherin Quidditch team before the action started. They were mostly third and fourth years with a seventh year captain and Chaser, but they looked just as fit as the less junior Ravenclaw team. Their third year Seeker Astrophel Black was in top form and already taunting North, who had a superb record, as they zoomed above the pitch and out of the way of the Beaters.  
  
The crowd below roared as Sexton took control of the Quaffle and deftly passed it to Ambrose, who was already barreling toward the Slytherin goal. Corinna ducked as a stray Bludger from MacNair hurtled her way. It had been aimed at Sexton several seconds too late.  
  
"Ravenclaw scores, ten to zero!" said the announcer, a mostly impartial sixth year Hufflepuff, whose name Corinna could not remember. Diggory or something like it.  
  
Ambrose had managed to score, but the Quaffle was immediately claimed by Pritchard from the Slytherin team, who took a Bludger to the shoulder and hardly seemed to feel it as he reversed toward the Ravenclaw goal posts. Corinna could feel her heart pound as he hurtled toward her with a maniac grin on his pock-marked face.  
  
"Oh, no," she thought as he drew back for the throw.  
  
But just then Parker snatched it from his hands with a wink as her broom came close to grazing his head. The look of shock and terror on Pritchard's face was very nearly priceless. Corinna let out a sigh of relief as Parker tossed the ball to Sexton, who zipped down field again. If they could just keep the Quaffle away from her ...  
  
Of course that was only wishful thinking because at that precise moment Fabian Moon, one of the Slytherin Chasers, knocked the ball from Sexton's grip and into the waiting hands of Pritchard, who swung around to make his second attempt at a goal. Parker was not waiting in the wings this time.  
  
Corinna missed blocking the Quaffle by mere inches as it sailed through the left hoop, earning Slytherin ten points and tying the game. Sexton, half way across the field, shook his head at her before diving to retrieve the Quaffle from Moon, who had it again. She went scarlet and tried to focus harder on the game.  
  
"Lots of luck, fatty," yelled Black as he whizzed by looking for the Golden Snitch.  
  
Corinna could only clench her jaw. She couldn't even take her eyes off the game to glare at him for fear of losing track of who had the Quaffle, which Moon had tossed toward Baddock, the third Slytherin Chaser.   
  
Sexton rammed Baddock and gained control of the Quaffle. He was loath to part with it, but tossed it to Parker who was in the clear for the moment, but still not close enough to the Slytherin goals to score. A Bludger swept past the end of her broom and caused Parker to pitch forward, losing the Quaffle, but not her seat.  
  
But Ambrose was there to make the recovery, elbowing Moon out of the way and shouting for the Beaters. Cole and Savage cleared the way for him to the goals, and the Slytherin Keeper was unable to block.  
  
"Ravenclaw scores! Twenty to ten!" shouted the announcer.  
  
Jugson, who was a sizable fourth year, shook his fist at smirking Ambrose while Baddock got the Quaffle and shot down the pitch.  
  
Corinna braced for another attempt at the goal, determined not to let Baddock through, but a Bludger from Savage took care of that for her. The Slytherin Chaser lost the Quaffle to Sexton, who looped Moon, before handing it off to Ambrose. The three Chasers were forming up into an attack formation as they maneuvered toward the goal. It was an impressive bit of strategy that made the entire Slytherin team scramble. But to no effect.  
  
"Ravenclaw scores again! That's thirty to ten," the announcer shouted with enthusiasm.  
  
But a split second after Ambrose had scored, MacNair sent a Bludger toward the closely grouped Chasers. It collided with Parker, smashing into her ribs. She lurched to one side, but stayed on her broom with a look of tremendous pain. The noise in the stands were mixed: sounds of dismay from the Ravenclaws, whoops of triumph from the Slytherins, and mixed cheers and gasps from the other students.  
  
Corinna could hardly believe it. Parker said something that she couldn't hear to Ambrose and Sexton, both of whom zoomed after the Quaffle, which had been retrieved by Moon. Parker merely remained hovering while the Beaters covered her and she tried to regain her breath. It was beginning to look as though they were down one Chaser. But as Moon passed off to Pritchard, Corinna had other things on her mind.  
  
Pritchard feighted to the left and then right before tossing the Quaffle with considerable force. Corinna didn't fall for it, but the Quaffle glanced off her fingertips as her Tinderblast responded too slowly.  
  
"Slytherin scores! Twenty to thirty, Ravenclaw!"  
  
The disgruntled looks some of her teammates shot her way weren't lost on Corinna as the Quaffle came back into play.  
  
Sexton reclaimed the ball and shouted something over his shoulder at Corinna that she couldn't quite hear. She was almost glad she couldn't as it didn't seem very nice. Sexton muscled past Moon to throw the Quaffle up to Ambrose, the team's best scorer. Savage was hard put to keep him from being nailed by a Bludger, but she knew her work.  
  
"North spots the Snitch!" yelled the announcer excitedly.  
  
Corinna risked an upward glance to spot Manfred North zigging and zagging, although she could not see the Snitch itself. She fervently hoped he would catch it and soon, before she had demonstrated complete incompetence as a Keeper. But Black was right on the tail of the more experienced Seeker.  
  
She was forced to return her attention to the game at hand as Baddock, who had the Quaffle, and Pritchard were both hurtling toward her down the pitch, veering out of the way of a Bludger from Cole that almost clipped Baddock. He handed off the Quaffle, and Corinna braced for the shot.  
  
But this time Corinna managed to knock the Quaffle away from the goals.   
  
Then it was neatly caught by Ambrose and thrown to Sexton down the pitch. Relief flooded her as the action moved down field. She had stopped a goal for the very first time. The cheering from the Ravenclaw stands was very pleasing, especially since she could hear Olivia's strident voice among those who were cheering.  
  
Then the announcer shouted something over the crowd, which had suddenly began to roar, "Black has caught the Snitch! Slytherin wins one hundred seventy to thirty!"  
  
Corinna's heart sank as she looked up to see Astrophel Black with a smug grin on his face, holding the Snitch aloft. Manfred North was slowly spiraling toward the ground with a look of defeat on his face. The rest of the Ravenclaw team looked disappointed as well, but none so much as their Seeker. Corinna sighed softly and joined her team as they landed on the pitch.  
  
"It was so close ..." murmured Manfred as they gathered to watch the Slytherins take their victory lap.  
  
None of them looked at Corinna. There was no recrimination for her part. It had all been in the hands of North who had beaten better Seekers than Black would ever be.  
  
"He was just lucky," Ambrose told North, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.  
  
"Yeah ..." said the dispirited Seeker.  
  
It had been a relatively short game.  
  
  
Olivia, Sophia, Sissy, and Martin were waiting for Corinna outside the locker rooms. To be fair, they had all enjoyed the match and cheered Corinna on until the Snitch had been caught. It had been a reasonably good game when looked at from the point of view of the Chasers. They had been ahead ten points when the Snitch was caught, although Parker was still wincing from her encounter with the Bludger as she left the locker room with Savage.  
  
"Not bad for your first time out," commented Olivia, giving Corinna a hearty pat on the back.  
  
"Thanks, but it was such a short game ..." said Corinna.  
  
"Yeah, you didn't get the chance to reach your stride," nodded Olivia with an understanding look. "Next time, you'll warm up to it even quicker."  
  
"I hope so," said Corinna with a lop-sided smile.  
  
"If we're going to talk about this for the rest of the day, we might as well go indoors or something," said Sissy, glancing warily at the overcast sky above them as though it were going to start raining at any moment.  
  
"The common room isn't going to be a very fun place to be for the few hours," said Corinna, watching the students trailing back up to the castle.  
  
"Days," Sissy corrected. She pretended not to notice when Olivia shot a glare at her.  
  
Corinna just slumped her shoulders a little and wondered if she was still on with Professor Mallaghan later that afternoon. It would be nice to escape, no matter how much tea he asked her to drink. Actually, she could use the energy.  
  
"The kitchens?" suggested Martin.  
  
"They aren't as fun around mid-day," said Sophia. "The house elves work all the time, but they're at their busiest in there right about now."  
  
"We can't take Martin to our dormitory," said Olivia. Her lips twitched slightly.  
  
"We could sit out by the lake," suggested Sophia, ignoring her.  
  
"But it's going to rain!" protested Sissy with a disgusted look.  
  
"If it does, then we'll go inside," said Sophia in a mollifying tone.  
  
"Fine," Sissy muttered.  
  
  
It was very cool outside that afternoon, partly due to the noncommittal weather, which could not decide between rain or just an abysmal overcast, but the girls and Martin were dressed comfortably for it.   
  
Corinna collapsed on the grass with an audible sigh, sitting between Martin and Sophia, who was sprawled on the ground and looking up at the sky. Olivia was picking at blades on grass with her chin on her knees. And Sissy on the other side of Martin was seated rigidly on the turf. It was quite apparent who loathed the outdoors. Sissy was, after all, somewhat pampered.  
  
"What'd Black yell at you during the game?" asked Olivia curiously.  
  
"Er, he just wished me luck," answered Corinna, coloring as she remembered his taunt about her weight.  
  
"Right ..." Sissy said slowly. "Now I'm going to sprout wings, fly across the lake, and bring us back treats from Hogsmeade."  
  
Martin chuckled, but grew somber again as he realized that Sissy was being sarcastic. They were all looking at Corinna.  
  
"He call me a 'fatty'," she admitted after a moment.  
  
"He did not!" objected Olivia.  
  
Sissy and Sophia looked horrified, but Martin only seemed puzzled. He couldn't understand why they were so upset. Sure, Corinna wasn't thin, but she wasn't a cow or anything either. Black was obviously just trying to taunt her and make her angry.  
  
"What are we going to do about this?" asked Olivia after a moment. There was a certain fire in her eyes.  
  
"Do about it?" questioned Corinna. "There isn't anything we can do about it. And besides, it's only words," she added quickly.  
  
"Only words? Well, jinxes and hexes are words too, and we don't let people hurl _them_ at us," argued Sissy vehemently.  
  
Olivia looked surprised that Sissy would back her so readily, but grinned hard in response to the encouragement.  
  
"So what shall we do to him then?" she asked.  
  
Sophia and Corinna looked dubious, and Martin was still puzzled, but interested. This was one of the Slytherins who had embarrassed him, after all, and he still didn't know why the other boy had done it. It would be nice if the girls put him in his place.  
  
"I don't know ..." said Corinna uncertainly.   
  
This sort of thing was why she didn't tell her friends absolutely everything. Just imagine if they had known what Ambrose had said about her weight.  
  
"But imagine if we get caught ... We'll go to Mister Pringle for sure this time, and I don't fancy that idea one bit," said Sophia sternly.  
  
"Then it will have to be something where we can't get caught," said Sissy evenly.  
  
"I don't like the sound of that," said Corinna with a wince. "You know that you don't have to do this on my account, right?"  
  
"Of course," snorted Sissy, rolling her eyes, "but I also know that after the trouble he's caused you, and Martin too, I might add, I would like to give him a taste of his own medicine."  
  
"What? Call him names too?" asked Martin.  
  
"Hardly," said Sissy dryly.  
  
"Hex him in the corridors?" suggested Olivia with a gleam in her eye.  
  
"I have a few I've wanted to try out," said Sissy.  
  
"That's not a good idea," said Sophia disapprovingly. "What if someone notices or sees you? What if you miss?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, ye of little faith," sighed Sissy. "I don't think I could mess up a little Magnus Dedecoro, and that would certainly put him in his place," she added, smirking as she spoke.  
  
"But that's a curse!" exclaimed Sophia in a very shocked tone.  
  
"Only a little one," said Sissy nonchalantly.  
  
"Magnus what?" asked Martin, who had only a scant knowledge of such things.  
  
"It's the most potent version of the Shaming Curse. It causes the victim to feel exactly as they did at the moment of the greatest shame or embarrassment they ever experienced. It's supposed to feel rather awful, but I think it fits his crimes," Sissy explained coolly. "Although, I'm not sure how long I could hold it. No more than fifteen minutes at best," she said with a thoughtful look.  
  
"Will he realize?" asked Corinna, warming up to the idea a bit since it didn't involve harming Black in the strictest sense of the word. She knew what sort of things Sissy was apt to study. Some were downright gruesome. By comparison this was utterly tame.  
  
"Possibly later, but if I do it in a crowded corridor, he won't know it was me. I mean, he would hardly expect it," said Sissy.  
  
"When?"  
  
"Monday?"  
  
"I'm almost certain that we'll regret this," said Corinna ominously after a moment.  
  


* * *

A/N: Quidditch is not my favorite thing to write by any means. I just hope I did a good enough job with that part of the chapter.  
  
  
HeeroTomoe: I know how that can be. Maybe you'll win next time. Thank you for reviewing and letting me know all of that!  
  
hmt: Thank you!  
  
KruchevsKid: I'm glad you like the professors, especially Knowles. He has been a bit of a challenge (but well worth it). I hope the Quidditch in this chapter was sufficient. Thank you for the review!  
  
silversea: That must remain a mystery for a while. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
EvilWItch4Ever: I try to keep the readers interested. But, honestly, I don't intentionally end chapters abruptly. They just turn out like that. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	22. Magnus Dedecoro

Chapter Twenty-two  
  
Magnus Dedecoro  
  
  
  
Sophia had actually begun to dread Monday as Sissy brushed up on the curse with gleaming eyes. But the weekend was over before she knew it and the other girls had not changed their minds about teaching Black a lesson. Sophia knew that Corinna was having second thoughts, possibly related to her gift, but she wasn't actively trying to stop Olivia, Sissy, and Martin, who were the most bent on revenge. Sophia also knew that there was no way to talk them out of it.  
  
"Black and his friends usually walk by the History of Magic classroom when we're queuing up to go inside," Olivia informed them when they all met in the common room before breakfast that morning. She didn't want to leave Martin out, but it seemed as though they had no choice.  
  
"Then I won't get to see it," said Martin flatly. He was more than a bit disappointed by this.  
  
"Sorry," shrugged Sissy.  
  
"The corridor should be quite crowded," said Olivia with a sympathetic look at Martin.  
  
"I'll say," said Sophia under her breath. That hallway was nearly packed between lessons.  
  
"Can you lengthen my sleeves a bit?" Sissy asked Olivia, who was the most adept at Charms. "So I can hide my wand more easily," she explained when given a quizzical look.  
  
"Of course," said Olivia with a grin.  
  
"Careful they don't get in your way," warned Sophia as Olivia took care of the sleeves, making them long enough to hide Sissy's hands.  
  
"Nag, nag, nag," muttered Olivia, sticking out her tongue.  
  
"Let's go then," said Sissy, experimentally drawing her wand before they left.   
  
Everything was perfect.  
  
  
Several hours later the quartet found themselves standing in the hall outside the History of Magic classroom, waiting for Astrophel Black to pass by. Sophia was sulking and hoping desperately that Sissy would lose her nerve, which was never going to happen, not in a million years. Corinna was anxiously plucking at her messy hair. But Olivia and Sissy were leaning against the wall with their eyes peeled for Black, looking very cool and calm in the face of such a gross violation of the rules.  
  
Sissy could barely suppress a wolfish grin when Black rounded the corner and came into view. She was already holding her wand carefully concealed in the sleeve of her robes. She raised it just enough to cast the spell and spoke the curse under her breath.  
  
"_Magnus Dedecoro_!"  
  
Then she lowered the wand slightly, careful to keep a firm grip on it as the curse went into action.  
  
Black stopped in his tracks, and his eyes widened in horror. His mouth moved for a moment, but without him uttering a sound. Then he crumpled to the floor, shielding his head with his arms. He was trembling hard and making unintelligible sounds just loud enough for the girls to hear.  
  
His two friends stood there staring at him with confused expressions. Flint prodded at him with the toe of his boot and then exchanged glances with Bulstrode before moving away from Black as though he were somehow contaminated.  
  
"Stop it!" Sophia hissed as Black began to rock back and forth on his knees, clutching at his dark hair with an expression of desperation and anguish on his face.  
  
Sissy swallowed and tried to let go of the spell to stop it. She had seen enough, not that this was the reaction she had been hoping for. She had hoped to see him blush and run away. Nothing more than that. His violent reaction had surprised and even frightened her.  
  
The Sissy got another nasty surprise: she couldn't stop the spell. It simply wouldn't stop. She couldn't even let go of her wand, much less the spell itself. Her fingers wouldn't uncurl from around the magical instrument.  
  
"Can't," she whispered back to Sophia with panic in her eyes.  
  
"Counter curse?" questioned Olivia, grasping Sissy by the arm.  
  
"I don't know it," she admitted hoarsely. "Get help," Sissy begged them.  
  
Corinna would like to have been able to say that she saw this coming, but this wasn't what she was expecting at all. The twin looks of fear and distress on Sissy and Black's faces were hardly what she had foreseen or known, which had only been that there would be trouble.  
  
"Who?" asked Sophia urgently.  
  
"Knowles," said Sissy through gritted teeth as Olivia tried to pry the wand from her hand.  
  
Sophia nodded quickly and began running down the corridor in the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  
  
Most of the students in hall had crowded around Black, watching with some interest as he curled up facing the wall and gibbered quietly to himself. None of his house mates moved to help him. Instead, they were simply looking awkward and uncomfortable. But no one seemed to notice Sissy with her back against the other wall, surrounded by her friends, who were trying to get her wand away from her without attracting too much attention.  
  
"Do you know _any_ counter curses that might help?" asked Olivia, unable to budge her friend's fingers.  
  
But Sissy's eyes were beginning to glaze over as the advanced curse sapped her strength. She could hardly respond to the inquiry, much less wrack her brain for such a complex spell.  
  
"I knew we shouldn't have done this," moaned Corinna.  
  
"It's not your fault," said Olivia hotly. "This was all my stupid idea. I can't believe I wanted her to try something like this!"  
  
"We both egged her on," said Corinna.  
  
"You did not," said Olivia through her teeth.  
  
"Where's Knowles?" asked Sissy in an agonized whisper.  
  
"Sophia went to get him," Olivia assured her as calmly as she could manage.  
  
  
It was some minutes later when a group of professors appeared. Some of them had been obviously alerted by other students, including Professor Knowles who was being closely trailed by Sophia. Most of the other professors, including the Muggle Studies professor and Beatrice Vector, immediately pushed their way through the crowd that had surrounded Black while Professor Kettleburn and the Astronomy professor began clearing the students from the corridor. But Sophia brought Knowles straight to them.  
  
"What have you done now, Howard?" barked Knowles.   
  
Sissy was barely aware of anything, but she could hear his voice and the anger therein.  
  
"Something ... stupid," she replied in a garbled voice.  
  
Knowles reached toward her, fumbling for her face. He gasped as though in pain as he touched her.  
  
"Dark Magic then? That was foolish," he said, releasing her with one hand and drawing his wand with the other.  
  
"Can you help her?" asked Olivia.  
  
Knowles started, but muttered, "Should have known. You all travel as a pack." He gave Olivia a brisk nod in answer to her question. "_Finite Incantatum_," he spoke, waving his wand over Sissy.  
  
Her knees buckled, but Knowles managed to catch her. For a moment his expression was one of unguarded concern. The expression was quick to vanish, however.  
  
"Sissy?" asked Corinna hesitantly as she did not move.  
  
"She'll be all right," said Knowles sharply, "despite her own obvious idiocy." He shook Sissy hard as he tried to bring her around.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor," said Sissy as she came to her senses.  
  
"Not half so sorry as you're going to be," he growled, pushing her against the wall and forcing her to stand up on her own. The concern was completely gone.  
  
"Is she the one that did it?" asked Professor Vector from behind him.  
  
Black was pushing himself up from the floor. He looked shaken and pale, but hardly the worse for wear.  
  
"Yes," snorted Knowles.  
  
"We had better take them to the headmaster and call their heads of house," said Vector with a pinched and angry look. "They should be the ones to sort out this mess," she added.  
  
"All of them?" asked Knowles.  
  
"They weren't involved," said Sissy quickly. "My friends don't know anything about it."  
  
Vector gave her a sharp look and said, "Well, it only takes one to cast a spell ..."  
  
"Just Howard and Black then," nodded Knowles, clutching Sissy's shoulder and shoving her forcefully toward Vector.  
  
"I'll conduct them to Armando's office then," nodded the professor of Arithmancy.  
  
  
When Professor Vector had left with Sissy and Astrophel, the other professors went on their way too, leaving Knowles with Sophia, Corinna, and Olivia, who was close to tears as she realized how much trouble Sissy was in. She thought it was quite possible that Sissy would be expelled and have her wand snapped for such an assault on a fellow student.  
  
"What in Merlin's name happened here?" asked Knowles, who was not ready to let the other girls go until he had a few questions answered.  
  
The three of them exchanged glances, not knowing precisely what to tell the professor.  
  
"Well?" he pressed, shuffling one foot to find his cane, which was on the floor, and retrieving it once it had been located. His knuckles were white as he gripped his cane and waited. "What did he do to provoke her?" asked Knowles impatiently.  
  
"That isn't easy to explain," said Sophia as her shoulders slumped.  
  
"He insulted me during the Quidditch match, sir," said Corinna.  
  
"He called her 'fatty'," Olivia offered, "and Sissy ... well, none of us could stand for it."  
  
Knowles rubbed his forehead with his free hand and said, "This was over an insult thrown around at a Quidditch match?"   
  
His tone was an entirely disbelieving one; he could hardly fathom what he had just been told, that Miss Howard would curse another student over something so trivial as that.  
  
"I'm sure Sissy never meant for it to go this far," Sophia told him.  
  
"She certainly didn't know what she was dealing with," he snorted derisively.  
  
"Will she be expelled?" asked Olivia with a quaver in her voice.  
  
"That will be decided by the headmaster," said Knowles, "but I wouldn't be surprised either way. A reckless stunt like that ..." He just shook his head.  
  
Privately, even Corinna thought, "You're one to talk." But she was not impertinent enough to say it.  
  
"The three of you should get to class," said Knowles as students began filing back into that part of the hallway.  
  
  
Sissy and Black marched along in silence behind Professor Vector, who was looking increasingly parsimonious as they neared the office of the headmaster. Sissy had tucked her wand away and was massaging a cramp out of her hand as they walked. Black beside her still looked wide-eyed, but she could tell that his anger had already been kindled. Realization of what had happened was slowly beginning to come to him. He was breathing heavily as though just recovering from a fright, and Sissy was as tired as she could ever remember feeling and trembling.  
  
They halted at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the office and Vector spoke the password, _Homeric hymns_, to make the gargoyle move from their path. Then she led them up the stairs into the outer office.  
  
"Wait here," Vector instructed them before dashing through a door to find Professor Dippet.  
  
Both parties took a seat, but it was Black who spoke first once they were alone.  
  
"Think you're clever, don't you? Just wait 'til they toss you out on your arse," said Astrophel in a low growl. When Sissy made no reply nor showed any sign of hearing him, he went on. "They might even have your wand for this. And why? Because you let that stupid prank we played on Dumbledore get under your skin."  
  
"That's hardly why I did this," said Sissy placidly.  
  
"Why then?" he asked, turning to glare at her with hard blue eyes.  
  
"What you said to Corinna on the pitch," she answered coolly.  
  
"Bollocks! You mean this was about _that_? One little wisecrack at your dirty little Half-blood friend?"  
  
Sissy nearly went for her wand again as she hissed, "Don't you dare call her that!"  
  
"It's true," he shrugged. "My father knew her father from school. I've always heard that Francis Bellew shackled himself to a poor muggle woman, but I never imagined that I'd be forced to go to school with their spawn. And in addition to that, she's fat and ugly too," he said, perhaps trying to draw Sissy into a fight just outside the office of the headmaster.  
  
"And I heard your father licked Grindelwald's boots," said Sissy in a conversational tone, "or was it something else ..." It was the first time she had ever said that name of the Dark Wizard aloud. It was oddly empowering.  
  
Black was out of his chair with his wand in hand. His face had turned a rather unattractive shade of red.  
  
"Don't you dare talk about my father!" he growled at her.  
  
Sissy chose not to go for her wand, betting that he wouldn't have enough time to do any serious damage, and besides that, she was far too exhausted to put up a decent fight.  
  
"Then leave my friend alone," she said calmly.  
  
"I don't see why you bother protecting her. What good is she to you?" asked Black, narrowing his eyes. He adjusted his grip on his wand as though restraining himself.  
  
Sissy imagined that in another time and place they would have hexed and cursed each other to kingdom come, or as close to it as a second and third year student could manage. But that was simply not something that either could do in the office of the headmaster whether he was present or not.  
  
"Corinna is my friend," Sissy said to him in slow, careful tones. She didn't expect him to understand, not because he was a Slytherin, but because he was an utter git.  
  
"I don't see why someone like you associates with Mudbloods. Slumming perhaps?"  
  
She knew he was trying to bait her, but the words stung just the same. It was the same of sort of filthy rhetoric used by the forces of Grindelwald during the war. Propaganda that helped keep pureblooded families on his side or neutral as he did as he wished to the muggle-born, half-blood, and muggle populations. She wasn't at all surprised to hear it from someone like Astrophel Black.  
  
"You'd be surprised," said Sissy shortly, "but I don't have to defend myself to the likes of you."  
  
"Oh, you'll be defending yourself soon enough," he said, nodding toward the inner office.  
  
"But not to you," she said with a smirk.  
  
"They'll have your wand for certain. Probably even send you to Azkaban," he threatened.  
  
Sissy felt a chill at those words, even though she knew that people were usually only sent to the wizards' prison for things like murder or using an Unforgivable Curse on someone, but she said nothing in response. She merely blinked coolly at him and tried to look unconcerned.  
  
"What did you do to me?" he asked when it became apparent that Sissy wasn't going to say anything more.  
  
"I tried to give you a taste of your own medicine," she replied.  
  
"A shame curse!" he hissed accusingly.  
  
"Thought you should remember what that sort of thing feels like."  
  
"Bravo," he snarled, looking away from her.  
  
  
Several minutes later Professor Vector walked back into the office where they were waiting and told them, "Professor Dippet will see you now." The look on her face remained unpleasant, especially when she looked at Sissy.  
  
The few steps into Dippet's office were among the most difficult she had ever taken. She felt battered and very tired, but worse than that, she was beginning to feel embarrassed about what she had done and the trouble she had caused.  
  
"It's not supposed to be like this," Sissy thought to herself as she approached the headmaster's desk with Black, who was smirking.  
  
Armando Dippet was sitting at his desk with his hands steepled in front of him. The expression on his face was one of anger and disbelief. Both emotions were gone when he looked up at them, or more precisely at Sissy. His eyes had lingered on Black only for a moment. Sissy was grateful that Black could not put on the mask of innocence and naiveté that he wore so often for his head of house. At least Dippet could see his real face in all of its arrogant, conceited, smirking glory.  
  
"You started this, Miss Howard?" the headmaster asked carefully.  
  
"In a manner of speaking," she replied, feeling unsteady on her feet as she stood before the aged Ravenclaw.  
  
"Professor Flitwick will be here in a moment. I did not feel the need to call Professor Krohn out of class at this time," said Dippet in measured tones.  
  
"She cursed me without warning or provocation," Black told him in a haughty voice.  
  
Dippet held up a hand to silence him and said, "Just a moment, Mister Black, while we wait for Professor Flitwick."  
  
The roar of the fireplace caused Sissy to turn slightly. Her heart sank even further when Professor Flitwick emerged from the hearth, dusting himself off and looking quite put out. Sissy remembered, not that it mattered very much, he had no class scheduled for the hour before the midday meal.  
  
"I should have known," said little Filius when he saw Sissy.  
  
She had to close her eyes for a moment to stop the tears as she said, "I'm sorry, professor."  
  
"Was it about the Quidditch game?" he asked her. "Please tell me that it wasn't about our house losing."  
  
"No, sir, not really ... Black insulted my friend Corinna on the pitch," she tried to explain.  
  
"Professor Knowles contacted me by floo and explained the circumstances leading up to this incident," said Dippet. "He has already questioned Miss Howard's friends regarding the matter," he added for his colleague's information.  
  
Professor Flitwick just shook his head and said, "I warned them all about their behavior."  
  
"Is she going to get expelled then? Her wand snapped?" asked Black. The anticipation in his voice made her cheeks burn. It was almost as though his mouth was watering at the prospect.  
  
"We haven't snapped the wand of a second year student in more than four hundred years. The same goes for expulsion," said Dippet in a neutral tone. "Cyrus seems to think that she did not intend to harm Mister Black, only teach him a lesson about belittling others. While this cannot excuse her conduct, I would try to take that into account," Dippet told Flitwick.  
  
"Fifty points then?" asked Flitwick.  
  
Sissy felt her insides go cold. Everyone was going to hate her now, maybe even Olivia. There was no way she could recover that many points! It was going to cost them the House Cup!  
  
"And detention?" asked the headmaster.  
  
"Of course," Flitwick nodded.  
  
"With Mister Pringle?" questioned Dippet very somberly. Even the staff knew what the caretaker was like.  
  
Flitwick shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably.  
  
"I suppose I have no choice. Yes, detention with Pringle for the next ... eight evenings, including the weekend," said Filius with a serious frown. Whether knowingly or not he had let her off the day before her birthday.  
  
But Sissy wasn't thinking about that. She was only thinking about the terrifying stories she had heard from other students. Whips, chains, thumbscrews, branding irons, enchanted instruments of torture ... She could almost feel herself go pale.  
  
"That's it?" asked Black in disbelief. "A few points and some measly detentions?"  
  
"Mister Black," said Dippet patiently, "it has been brought to my attention both this term and last term that you take great pleasure in bullying younger students. There have been reports from the prefects and so forth. It seems that this time you chose to trouble the wrong people and have suffered the consequences. I hope you learn something from this experience. And I assure you that Miss Howard's punishment will not be taken lightly."  
  
Black narrowed his eyes, but could think of nothing further to say.  
  
"Would you care to go to the hospital wing before returning to class?" Professor Dippet asked him. Black's eyes darted toward Sissy for an instant.  
  
"No, thank you, sir. I think I can manage," he said with a curl of his lip. Black would never admit that the curse had done anything substantial to him, not even to those who saw him lying in a gibbering heap on the floor. His pride would not allow it.  
  
"Then you are excused," said Dippet, gesturing for the door.  
  
"What about me, sir?" asked Sissy after a moment as she heard the door close none too quietly behind her.  
  
"I will be escorting you to the hospital wing, Miss Howard," said Professor Flitwick, reaching up and taking her by the elbow. There was still disappointment in his eyes, but his expression was kindly too.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said, feeling much too tired and depleted to object or refuse.  
  
"I'll want to have a few words with you too," he said to Sissy. "Headmaster, I will return before my next class," he said over his shoulder as they walked away.  
  
  
The exhaustion had yet to pass as Sissy walked down the corridor in the direction of the hospital wing with Flitwick guiding her by the elbow. He was rather comforting in his own way, and it was nice not to be walking alone, especially considering how awful Sissy felt, although she could not understand precisely why.  
  
"What spell did you use on Black?" asked Flitwick, keeping his pace slow to accommodate his pale and weary student.  
  
"Magnus Dedecoro," she answered.  
  
"Ah ..." he said as though realizing something for the first time. "Not all that it was cracked up to be, was it, Miss Howard?"  
  
"No, professor."  
  
"Dark Magic has a sinister element to it that can be easily overlooked or hidden from the unsuspecting. Remember that," he advised her.  
  
"What did it do it me, sir?"  
  
"That isn't an easy thing to explain. In order to use Dark Magic effectively, one must have a core of darkness, such as hate and malice, for example, from which to draw. You didn't hate young Mister Black enough to actually form a core for the spell to feed on, which meant that it could only feed on what it could find: your life energy," explained Flitwick carefully.  
  
"So it would have killed me eventually?" she asked.  
  
"That particular spell would probably have only rendered you unconscious, but there are spells that, if cast under the wrong conditions, might do just that," he said seriously.  
  
"I blacked out for a moment when Professor Knowles stopped it," she admitted.  
  
"Not surprising," he commented, giving her arm a comforting squeeze. "I understand why you performed the spell, although I cannot condone your actions."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, yes, like your friend Miss Bellew, I was bullied and taunted in school myself and took matters into my own hands more than once," he said with a grim sort of smile as he looked up at her.  
  
She looked at him incredulously. Flitwick had been a dueling champion, after all, and she had always imagined that he had been well-liked and popular in school.  
  
"It isn't easy being the smallest boy in your year, you know," said Flitwick with a hint of amusement. "The other children said horrible things about my parentage, which I shall not repeat to you, so, unable to ignore the gibes, I learned to defend myself from them in much the same fashion as you tried to defend your friend. But with perhaps better results. You see, I stuck with hexes and jinxes."  
  
"I never realized, professor," said Sissy.  
  
"That other people go through much the same thing? Neither did I at your age," he shrugged. "But I hope you have learned your lesson."  
  
"I believe so," she said as reached the hospital wing.  
  
"Good. I'm just sorry you have to have those detentions with Pringle," said Flitwick, shaking his head.  
  
Needless to say, so was Sissy.  
  


* * *

A/N: Punishments are difficult to decide.  
  
  
HMT: You know that is really interesting, isn't it? Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I'm glad it wasn't confusing. Thanks for the review!  
  
Eternal Wanderer: I'm glad you're enjoying the story; I will keep your advice in mind. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
  



	23. Detention with Pringle

Chapter Twenty-three  
  
Detention with Pringle  
  
  
  
Madam Pomfrey gave Sissy a potion, some nasty olive green mixture with bits of black stuff floating in it, and sent her on her way sometime later. She began to feel better by the time she reached the Great Hall. It was nearly time for lunch, and Sissy imagined that her friends would be expecting her and probably very worried. She was right on both counts.  
  
She was already seated, resting quietly as students poured noisily into the hall, when she spotted Sophia, Olivia, Corinna, and Martin. They were all wearing identical expressions of concern and anxiety. Sissy imagined that they had filled Martin on the details. She smiled tiredly as they rushed toward her.  
  
"Are you going to be tossed out?" Martin blurted out with a terrified expression on his face.  
  
"No," said Sissy, just managing to chuckle softly at his bluntness.  
  
"That's a relief," said Sophia.  
  
Sissy realized that the past hour had been almost as agonizing for them as for her. They genuinely thought that she might be expelled from Hogwarts. She was touched by their concern and therefore was not sure how to explain that she was spending eight consecutive evenings with Mister Pringle.  
  
"I lost fifty house points," she informed them solemnly.  
  
"No," moaned Olivia, holding her head in her hands.  
  
"That ... that isn't so bad," said Corinna, trying not to sound as disheartened as Olivia.  
  
"I'll never be able to earn them back ..." said Sissy.  
  
"There's five of us. Only ten points each, and we have months," said Martin rationally. "We'll just have to try really hard," he added.  
  
"But that isn't so bad," said Sophia, "unless there's more?"  
  
Sissy took a deep breath and said, "Detention for eight days. Don't worry about it."  
  
"With Pringle?" asked Corinna with some certainty.  
  
"Yeah ..." Sissy admitted grudgingly.  
  
Martin furrowed his brow as he watched the girls suddenly seem much more displeased and miserable, except for Sissy who had come to terms with the situation already. He knew almost nothing about the school caretaker, only that his name seemed to fill the girls, and everyone else, with dread.  
  
"What do you suppose he'll have you do?" asked Martin mostly to fill the sudden silence.  
  
"Don't think about it!" Sophia urged, reaching across the table to squeeze Sissy's hand.  
  
Martin swallowed hard.  
  
"Best not to think about it." added Corinna, putting an arm around her friend.  
  
  
The caretaker's office was on the ground floor about halfway between the Entrance Hall and the passage that led to the Hufflepuff common room. Sissy had passed by it numerous times, but had never given it much thought. The dark wood of the recessed door made it seem forbidding in the late afternoon light. As her stomach tightened, she was grateful that her detention was before supper, just in case she couldn't keep anything down during whatever was to come.  
  
"Just stories, just stories ..." she repeated to herself as she raised her hand and knocked.  
  
The door opened like a cork from a bottle, nearly hitting her as she scuttled out of the way. Standing in the door way was Apollyon Pringle. He wasn't a tall man, but he was imposing in his own way. His dark, glaring eyes could stare a seventh year of any house into submission. Pringle's face always seemed to be set in a frown, but as he looked at nervous Sissy, a wicked and terrible smile spread slowly across his face.  
  
"You're the first one they've sent to me this year," he stated, grasping her arm like a snake striking at its prey. She startled. He twisted her arm a little as he pulled her into his dimly lit office. "Practicing curses on other students. We'll learn you," he said confidently.  
  
"You want the manacles, sir?" asked his slouching apprentice with a ghastly sort of smile of his own.  
  
Sissy knew that sort of look. He was glad that a student had been sent for detention. But then, they both seemed to be, and yet Filch, if she remembered his name properly, seemed almost anxious, eager to please Pringle. She imagined that the caretaker took out a lot of his temper on the younger man, who was supposedly a squib, when there weren't students to punish. With her there, Pringle had someone else to torment in his stead.  
  
"Aye, good idea, Filch. Fetch 'em," Pringle instructed.  
  
Sissy swallowed hard as she watched Filch rummage around in the back of the office before producing two well-polished metallic cuffs with a length of chain between them.  
  
"Your wand," said Pringle, wrenching her arm again.  
  
Sissy reluctantly took it from her pocket with her free hand and gave it to him. He tucked it away with a snort before taking the manacles from Filch and clamping them brutally onto her wrists. The shackles didn't especially hurt, but they were very heavy and tighter than necessary.  
  
"You like Dark Magic?" Pringle asked her with an almost gleeful look. She didn't know how to reply to that, but there was no need. He continued. "Well, these beauties are a fine example. Wonderful craftsmanship," he said, grabbing the chain and snatching them up so that she would look at them. They didn't seem especially interesting.  
  
"I wouldn't know," she said.  
  
"Let me demonstrate," he said. "I want you to think about how worthless and stupid you are for the next ... two minutes, starting now," he said, releasing the chain.  
  
Sissy frowned at him as though he had lost his mind.  
  
Then she felt it. A burning sensation that emanated from the manacles around her wrists starting there and shooting up her arms. Sissy had never been exposed to muggle electrical current, but had she known, the sensations were similar. She bit back a surprised shriek of pain. The burning would not stop.  
  
"Worthless and stupid, worthless and stupid," she began repeating to herself mentally, hoping that would be the key to stopping the pain.  
  
The uncomfortable sensation lessened, but did not wholly disappear as she tried to keep her thoughts under strict control. It was more difficult than she would ever have imagined. Thoughts of escape and anger had to be fought off. Stray pejoratives directed at maniacally smiling Pringle had to be quashed.  
  
"Useful toy, isn't it, Howard?" asked Mister Pringle after the allotted time had passed.  
  
Her wrists and arms continued to ache even after the manacles seemed to return to their dormant state. Sissy squared her jaw and said nothing. She could not trust herself to speak.  
  
"I'll say it's useful then," said Pringle. "Let's try for five minutes then. Stupid and worthless, just as before," he instructed, giving another sharp tug at the chain between the manacles.  
  
  
Somewhat more than an hour later Sissy left the office. The repetition of thoughts were still pounding behind her temples. It required all of her meager energy to ignore them. She could hear the buzz of conversation and the soft clatter of utensils as she approached the open doors to the Great Hall. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed her wrists. The burning lingered. The memory of pain stayed with her. When she had opened her eyes again, she knew that she wanted to be alone, that she could not face her friends with her mind still barking the just-learned litany of worthlessness and stupidity at her. Instead of entering the hall, she turned and started toward the Aerie to find some peace and quiet.  
  
  
Olivia was the first to begin to worry when Sissy didn't show up for supper, but she wasn't the only one as minutes began to tick by and their friend did not appear. She imagined that Pringle was keeping her late, which was not far from the truth. That thought unnerved her. It unnerved everyone as they knew the sorts of things that he was rumored to be capable of. Olivia could hardly understand why Headmaster Dipper allowed it or even kept such a man on his staff.  
  
"What are we going to do?" she asked as they all glanced toward the hall entrance, hoping to see their friend striding in with a smirk, none the worse for wear.  
  
"What _can_ we do?" asked Sophia, rolling a few peas around on her plate.  
  
"She'll be along in a few minutes," said Martin, who, though quite hungry, was eating without much enthusiasm.  
  
"I'm going to the Aerie and see if maybe she went there after her detention," said Corinna, standing and leaving the table.  
  
"Why would she do that?" asked Martin, beating the girls to the question.  
  
"It's just a feeling I have," said Corinna solemnly. The day-dreaming look in her eyes was replaced by a very serious expression.  
  
"All right, but if she's there, bring her back straight away," said Olivia.  
  
Corinna looked at her for a moment and shrugged before walking out of the hall.  
  
"You don't suppose ..." Martin began to say.  
  
"Stop it!" said Sophia suddenly, startling him. "I don't want to suppose anything."  
  
  
The common room was empty as most students were still having their supper, but Corinna hardly expected to find Sissy there. She went immediately to the dormitory that they shared instead.  
  
"Sissy?" she called as she opened the door.  
  
"In here," Sissy yelled in return from the bath. Tiredness seemed to coat her voice, dulling its normally sharp tones. The effect was not a pleasant one.  
  
Corinna walked to the open door to find Sissy soaking her hands in a basin of lukewarm water.  
  
"What happened?" she asked.  
  
Sissy considered her answer for a moment too long and said, "My hands are grimy from detention. I wanted to wash them."  
  
"Your wrists look raw," Corinna observed, stepping closer.  
  
"Ah, perhaps a bit," said Sissy, plunging her hands out of plain view.  
  
"A Cooling Charm might ..."  
  
"Too sore to hold a wand," Sissy admitted, "but I'm sure they'll be fine later."  
  
"Maybe Madam Pomfrey could ..." Corinna started to suggest.  
  
"Don't worry. My hands will be fine," Sissy told her firmly.  
  
Corinna nodded that she understood and continued watching Sissy soaking her obviously much abused hands and wrists.  
  
"What did Pringle have you do?"  
  
"Nothing much really. I just had to think," said Sissy, closing her eyes for a brief instant as the droning thoughts began once again. She had nearly got rid of them. "Can we not discuss it at present, Corinna? I am very tired and thinking about it only makes it worse," she explained in a strained voice.  
  
"Thinking about thinking?"  
  
"Exactly," Sissy nodded.  
  
"Do you want me to leave then?" asked Corinna, taking a backward step.  
  
Sissy looked up and shrugged her blond hair out of her face and said, "No, you can stay if you want. You can ... tell me what I missed in History of Magic this morning."  
  
"Professor Binns droned on about Goblin revolts and such for the entire hour. I've got notes that you can copy."  
  
  
Sissy would always count the next four days as among the worst of her life. Perhaps not always _the_ absolute worst, but certainly in the top ten segments of misery she ever experienced, and those sentiments would not dull with time. She was tired and sore most of the time, but that wasn't the worst of it. She had been both of those things before, most notably when she had taken dance lessons at her preparatory school in France, but that had been a rewarding experience that she would gladly have repeated at any time. Detentions with Pringle and, more often than not, Filch as well, were neither enjoyable nor an experience she ever wanted to repeat. She simply tried to hold on to the thought that she only had to complete eight days. The worst part of the situation was the fact that when detention ended, she could not let go of the thoughts that she was required to think in order to escape the pain. Those thoughts remained with her where ever she went.  
  
When she returned to the dormitory in the evening, the girls would always be waiting for her. Olivia would cast Cooling Charms on her wrists, which eased the pain considerably. She had offered to cast a Cheering Charm for her, but Sissy always refused. She imagined that it would require a very powerful one to make her feel any better at all. After that they would all walk her down to the Great Hall and make sure that she had something to eat. Then Sissy would return to the Aerie, study for a while in silence, and then go straight to bed. Her dreams were troubled ones.  
  
Her friends noticed the change in her from the very beginning. The spark of cool, clear intellect in Sissy's eyes had diminished, replaced with a look that was becoming dull and tired. They hated it, but felt powerless to do anything to help her. Who could they tell or what could they do? The answers always came to nothing.  
  
"She'll be all right in a few days," said Sophia as they watched her climb the stairs to the dormitory Wednesday night with shambling steps. Her statement was more like a question.  
  
"And if not?" asked Martin.  
  
"Sissy is stronger than any of us. She will be fine," said Olivia a bit too forcefully. She was rethinking the birthday present she had chosen for Sissy. It seemed ill-suited after all of this.  
  
  
But they weren't the only people who noticed the change. In class Sissy had stopped answering questions voluntarily, even in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Professor Knowles certainly noticed that. He could also hear the painful listlessness in her voice, the tiredness and the lack of energy, when he managed to get her to speak at all. It was obvious to him that he was losing one of his best students.   
  
He was very much torn between two sentiments: one of justice and one of compassion. Since the war he had always put far greater emphasis on the former over the latter. But he could tell that the punishment for her misdeed, whatever that punishment was, had become more than Miss Howard could bear. It no longer seemed to fit her crime, though that was hardly his determination to make.  
  
It was that final sentiment, not so different than those of Sissy's friends, that caused Professor Knowles to wait until Thursday following his second year class to speak with her.  
  
During class he had asked for someone to demonstrate a simple defensive spell and had chosen Sissy because he knew that the young wizards in the class would not be mature enough to attempt this without causing havoc. He had seen it time and again in earlier years. Sissy had very respectfully declined.   
  
Her reason?  
  
"I'm afraid I might muck it up, sir."  
  
Knowles had been very surprised, but had accepted her refusal without further comment, opting to have Chang demonstrate the spell. Thankfully, it went off without a hitch.  
  
After class he asked her to remain behind as it was the lunch hour and he would not be keeping her from class.  
  
"Miss Howard?" he questioned once the other students had gone. It was so quiet that for a moment that he was afraid that she had simply slipped out with the rest of her classmates.  
  
"Yes, professor?" she said.  
  
"Come here," he instructed, leaning against his desk and putting his cane aside.  
  
Her footsteps were slow as she approached. Even they had a different quality to them than they had the week before. The sound was heavier, less energetic and less graceful. He would hardly have known it was Miss Howard without the sound of her voice to accompany those steps.  
  
"How are you finding your detentions with Mister Pringle?" he asked her in a conversational tone.  
  
"I enjoyed the ones with you more," she answered, trying to put some of her old nonchalance in the reply. It only made her sound shrill and unhappy.  
  
"I'm flattered," he said, recognizing the evasive answer for what it was. "What sort of things are you doing? Scrubbing floors? Cleaning?" he asked. Knowles knew perfectly well that neither chore would break Sissy, at least not in a scant three days.  
  
"No, sir," she replied.  
  
"What then?" he questioned, beginning to lose his patience.  
  
"Professor, with all due respect ..." she began tiredly.  
  
"I would like to help you, Miss Howard, _if_ you are being treated unfairly, but I can hardly ascertain whether you are or not on my own," he explained..  
  
"It's hardly worth the trouble, sir," she said with what sounded like a slight sniffle.  
  
Knowles frowned and reached toward her. She permitted him to grasp her by the shoulder.  
  
"That is my decision to make, Miss Howard," he said crisply, "and as you are one of my better students, I happen to think it is quite worth it."  
  
Her shoulder trembled under his hand, and Knowles realized that she was indeed crying. He grimaced and drew her closer.  
  
"There, there, Miss Howard, it can't be as bad as all that, can it?" he asked, pulling her into a hug and grimacing as she began to cry on his mismatched robes.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor," she said in a muffled voice. "I know how you hate emotionalism."  
  
"Never mind that now;" he said to the sobbing twelve-year-old, "I imagine that you can't help it." He tried not to look disgusted as she sniffed and hiccuped.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Don't mention it," he said. But he was thinking at the same time, "Because I could certainly lose my job if someone took this the wrong way."  
  
Her tears gradually subsided, and he allowed her to pull away when she was ready. He fished an old hankie out of his pocket and gave it to her. She murmured her thanks and dried her eyes before returning the article to him. He took it back with a look of distaste and tucked it away again.  
  
"I am afraid that I won't be able to see the headmaster until after dinner tonight. He is a very busy man. But I promise you that I will do something about your detentions if it is at all within my power," he assured her.  
  
"Really?" she asked with a hopeful note in her voice.  
  
"Yes, really," he said with a slight curl of his lip. "Now, you should get a hold of yourself and run along, Miss Howard, before your friends begin to worry."  
  
  
Professor Knowles decided to skip his mid-day meal that day in order to pay a visit to Mister Pringle, who almost always took his meals in his office with his apprentice instead of with the rest of the staff. Knowles was curious to know what sort of measures the caretaker had employed to turn his otherwise level-headed and unemotional student into a sobbing mess. And he needed specific charges to take to Armando Dippet if he was ever to convince the headmaster to turn Miss Howard's remaining detentions over to him.  
  
Pringle sounded very surprised to see him when he opened his office door. Knowles could have easily imagined the look on the old wizard's face. Not pleasant at all.  
  
The professor was about to practice a deception, one which would require some guile and as much nerve as he had.  
  
"I'd like a word with you, Mister Pringle," he said with a disarming smile.  
  
"A word?"  
  
"I've noticed a change in Miss Howard that is ... most agreeable. I want to know how you've managed it," he said. "Might I come inside and discuss it?" he asked in an affable and conversational tone  
  
"Of course, professor, of course," said Pringle, taking him by the elbow and guiding him into the office.  
  
Knowles found this a bit offensive and presumptuous, but he had other matters to attend to and could hardly belabor the irksome old man with his cane.  
  
"Thank you very much," he said, struggling to keep his tone friendly. "Now, why don't you show me what methods you've used."  
  
"Filch! Get the manacles out!" Pringle ordered his apprentice, who had been eating his dinner at a table in the corner. He dropped his fork with a soft clatter and scampered to do his boss's bidding.  
  
"Manacles?" questioned Knowles, not too terribly surprised. The barbarity of the notion was already unpalatable.  
  
"Oh, yes, special ones," said Pringle. "I bought them off a man in Hogsmeade during the war," he added in a softer tone.  
  
"Dark Magic?" asked Knowles with interest. It was mostly feigned as he knew the sort of thing that Pringle was talking about.  
  
"Perhaps a bit," said Pringle, but with that admission his tone grew uneasy.  
  
"No matter," said Knowles with forced laugh as he heard Filch approaching.  
  
"They are an interesting bit of work. I've no idea what they were originally used for exactly," said Pringle more conversationally, "but they can work wonders."  
  
Knowles heard the manacles clink together and asked, "Might I examine them? Professional curiosity, you know."  
  
"Certainly," said Pringle, pressing them into his empty hand.  
  
Knowles rested his cane in the crook of his elbow and ran his hands over the smooth, cold mental of the manacles. He couldn't discern very much about them. They were heavy but otherwise unremarkable.  
  
"I'd like to try them, if I may," he said with a smile. "Please put them on," he instructed, holding out his wrists.  
  
He could have done this himself, but he wanted to know Pringle's reaction to the suggestion ... among other things.  
  
"Are you sure, professor?" asked Pringle nervously.  
  
"Of course," said Knowles.  
  
Pringle complied and fastened the manacles around his wrists.  
  
"Now show me what they can do," instructed Knowles.  
  
"It's not a pleasant thing ..." Pringle began awkwardly.  
  
"Oh, if Miss Howard can take it, then so can I. You need not be concerned," said Knowles. His tone remained light, but had he realized it, he would have known that the expression on his face was a very dangerous one.  
  
"If you insist, professor," said Pringle, gripping the chain that link Knowles' two hands together. "I won't make it as hard for you. Think about ..."  
  
"No, please, I want the same treatment," interrupted Knowles, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Think about ... being stupid and worthless for the next minute," instructed Pringle very grudgingly.  
  
The surprise he felt at those instructions was eclipsed an instant later by a burning sensation that made him grit his teeth hard. He had expected the shackles to hurt somehow, but he was surprised by the sheer magnitude of the pain. He immediately thought about what Pringle had said, forcing the pain away with his submission.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor, but you wanted to know," said Pringle a minute later as he removed the manacles.  
  
"That explains a lot," said Knowles, rubbing his tender wrists and feeling a bit shaken.  
  
He had found the answers that he was seeking, but he didn't like them, not at all. Miss Howard had been as good as tortured, not to mention countless other students who had been so brutally schooled into submission over the years. But he had one more question that needed an answer: why? Why had Armando Dippet let this go on for so long?  
  
  
Professor Knowles had a bit of trouble finding the headmaster's office, which was not surprising given that he had only visited it once since losing his sight. He had sent a message saying that he had an urgent matter to discuss and Armando had invited Knowles to join him in his office before dinner, although regrettably after Miss Howard's next detention had already begun. Knowles had been tempted to find her and tell her not to go, but he resisted that urge because of the trouble it could have potentially caused.  
  
"Would you care for a drink, Cyrus?" asked Dippet as the defense professor entered the office.  
  
"No, but thank you," he said, seating himself in a chair in front of the headmaster's desk. "This should only take a few moments," he added.  
  
"Please, you know I always have time for my professors," said Professor Dippet. Knowles could almost hear his genial, patient smile.  
  
It was difficult to admit, but Knowles had admired Dippet since his own days as a student, which were just a few years after Armando had given up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position to become headmaster. Knowles had all but followed in his footsteps, the war against Grindelwald aside. But at this moment, Knowles felt a strange sort of disappointment in the former professor, his colleague.  
  
"It is about Miss Howard," said Knowles, "and how Apollyon Pringle is choosing to discipline her. I find it to be barbaric and distasteful and wish to assume responsibility for the remainder of her detentions."  
  
"Her infraction was a serious one. I think she needs to learn an equally serious lesson," countered Dippet.  
  
"I am well aware of that, Armando, but his methods are too extreme," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "I do not wish to lose a very good student, and I can already detect signs of damage ..."  
  
"Are you suggesting that Apollyon is brutalizing the girl?"  
  
"I am suggesting that she is being harmed emotionally," said Knowles in a very firm voice. "She has become noticeably more withdrawn and less confident in just the past few days ..."  
  
"Which should lead to better behavior in the long run," replied Dippet calmly.  
  
"Another half week of this and I won't have a Ravenclaw with top marks in defense anymore. I'll just have another student who stares down at her desk all the time," said Knowles, who knew by the sound of her voice that Sissy barely raised her head anymore when she spoke. "I'm not asking you to let her off, Armando. I can and will see to her punishment."  
  
"You are serious about this then?"  
  
"Very much so."  
  
"All right, but these detentions are _not_ to be used for extra lessons," Armando warned.  
  
For a moment Knowles thought that Dippet was merely taking pity on him. Then he realized that he didn't care about that, not one whit.  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"Is there anything else, Cyrus?"  
  
Knowles winced as he asked, "Why do you keep Pringle on? Surely you can't approve of all his methods."  
  
"I'm not a tender-hearted man," began Dippet, "but, truthfully, I hired him because he was my late wife's youngest brother. He had no where to go and precious few skills. I was able to give him a job."  
  
"I see ..."  
  
"I imagine the next headmaster, being of the same mind as you, will have him out the first chance he gets."  
  
It wasn't until much later that Knowles realized the full meaning of those words.  
  


* * *

A/N: I know the perspective changed somewhat, but Knowles' perspective of these events was more interesting.  
  
  
KruvchevsKid: I think Flitwick would have had a lot of friends, but he's so small that he would have been an obvious, universal target. Sad, I know. Thank you for the review!  
  
HMT: Thanks!  
  
HeeroTomoe: I know that using Finite Incantatum was a little cheesy, but I couldn't come up with a *good* counter-curse. And sometimes simple solutions can be the best. I'll try to drop in character descriptions more often. I have the disadvantage of being able to 'see' them and sometimes forget that other people don't have that. I'm glad you still seem to be enjoying the story. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	24. A birthday to remember

Chapter Twenty-four  
  
A birthday to remember  
  
  
  
The rest of Sissy's sentence was served painlessly copying lines for Professor Knowles in his classroom. The lines alternated among 'Sorcery is an unacceptable subject of study' to 'I must not curse my fellow students' to 'No magic is allowed in the corridors between classes', all of which were things with which Sissy grudgingly agreed ... except perhaps that first one. But thanks to his intervention, which she suspected went contrary to his nature, she was no longer feeling so miserable nor so worthless as Pringle had attempted to make her feel. The horror was slowly wearing off, and Sissy was almost herself again.  
  
  
On the day before Halloween all of the girls were awakened early by hooting as Zubin, Sissy's faithful owl, entered the dormitory through the window. The owl was clever enough to open the shutters with its beak. And it came bearing gifts: two medium-sized, yet carefully wrapped packages for Sissy on her birthday.  
  
Sophia immediately got out of bed, threw a robe on over her pajamas, and closed the window again with a shiver, watching as Zubin landed on Sissy's bed with a plop. She studied her friend for a moment as an unguarded smile came to her sleepy face. Sophia chuckled, satisfied that everything was returning to normal after her friend's ordeal.  
  
"How's it feel to be thirteen?" asked Corinna, whose birthday was in the summer along with Olivia's, which made them the youngest. Olivia was actually _the_ youngest of the girls by twelve days.  
  
"It feels all right," answered Sissy as she untied the packages and gave Zubin an affectionate feather ruffling. The little owl hooted fondly and seemed to yawn. He had obviously had a long and difficult night.  
  
"Open them!" said Olivia excitedly. Gifts from Sissy's parents were things of legend. Or often very weird. In either case, great cause for excitement.  
  
Sissy untied the twine and ripped the wrapping paper from the first package as the other girls gathered around to watch. She opened the box to reveal a pair of Omnioculars. The expression on her face was one of puzzled amusement.  
  
"What are they?" asked Sophia.  
  
"You look through them to watch Quidditch. Father saw someone with a pair over the summer. He thought they were ingenious," Sissy explained, looking through them experimentally.  
  
"But why would anyone need something like that?" asked Corinna.  
  
"At the Quidditch Cup if you don't have good seats ..." said Olivia.  
  
"Indeed," said Sissy, offering the Omnioculars to Corinna for her to look at while she busied herself with her other present. "This one must be from mum," she said, tearing into the paper.  
  
The package contained two things, much to her delight: a new jumper from Madam Malkin's much imitated line and sweets from her favorite Diagon Alley sweet shop. Sissy held up the robin's egg blue article and smiled.  
  
"Looks wonderful," said Olivia, peering at her through the Omnioculars that she had swiped from Corinna.  
  
"Mum always knows what color I'll like," said Sissy, folding it up and putting it aside to rifle through the accompanying sweets. "Who wants a chocolate frog?" she asked, taking a handful from the box. There would always be more coming in two or three weeks.  
  
"Too early, too early!" protested Sophia as she put both hands over her mouth.  
  
"I think I could scarf one," said Olivia. "Thanks," she said as Sissy tossed one of them to her. She opened it, caught the frog mid leap, and popped it into her mouth. One frantic frog leg still stuck out, kicking uselessly until the magic wore off.  
  
"So disgusting," said Sophia.  
  
"Then don't watch," said Olivia around a mouthful of frog, er ... chocolate.  
  
"What card did you get?" asked Sissy curiously.  
  
"Circe again," she shrugged, holding it up for her to see.  
  
"You can always trade it for better," offered Sissy.  
  
"You have to open our presents now!" said Corinna, who had avoided the chocolate frog issue by getting her present for Sissy from her trunk.  
  
"Hold on!" said Sophia as Olivia and she scrambled to get their gifts.  
  
Corinna handed her box to Sissy, but she waited until the others returned before opening it. Inside were a half dozen sugar quills. Corinna couldn't afford an extravagant gift, but she knew how much Sissy liked them and that they often broke when they were shipped all the way from London by her mother.  
  
"Thank you! My favorites!" said Sissy graciously.  
  
"Mine next," said Sophia, shoving a neatly wrapped gift into her hands.  
  
As with Christmas the year before, there was the great internal debate as to whether or not to tear the paper, but in the end her natural instincts won out and Sissy tore the wrapping paper from the box. She opened the box to reveal a pair of dark blue gloves made of a thick, but stretchy wizarding synthetic.  
  
"Just what I needed," said Sissy with a smile as she pulled them on and flexed her hands. "Thank you," she said, removing the gloves. She had a pair that her favorite aunt had bought for her just before school began, but the color was just a little off, too purple or indigo in her opinion. These would match her house scarf nicely.  
  
Olivia was hesitant as she gave her present to Sissy. It was probably a bad idea, but it was too late to do anything about it.  
  
"_A Practical Guide to Hexes and Curses_?" she read with a chuckle as she removed the last of the paper from the old, leather-bound volume.  
  
"For your collection," said Olivia with a shy grin.  
  
"I will ... use it well," said Sissy, flipping through the pages, a few of which had rather gruesome illustrations.  
  
"Sissy!" objected Sophia in a shocked voice.  
  
"Not at school though, right?" said Corinna anxiously.  
  
Sissy and Olivia exchanged a look before the former replied, "Of course not. I think I learned my lesson. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy reading the book and familiarizing myself with the spells."  
  
"I suppose not ..." said Sophia grudgingly, still having dark misgivings about such a gift.  
  
"I won't use it to cause trouble. I get enough unpleasant looks from our house mates as it is," said Sissy with a bit of a sneer.  
  
  
Martin was waiting for them in the common room. He had something behind his back as the girls came down the stairs to meet him for breakfast.  
  
"Happy birthday, Sissy," he said, holding out a book tied with a bright red ribbon. Martin had not given much thought to wrapping paper. He was just glad that his selection from Flourish and Blotts had arrived in time.  
  
"Thank you," she said, removing the ribbon from the hefty volume. "_The History of Sorcery and the Dark Arts, Volume One_?"  
  
"I thought you'd like it," he said.  
  
"I do," she replied, adding silently, "but I really must wonder why all of my friends believe I'm completely enamored with the Dark Arts."  
  
"There are four more volumes, if you like that one," Martin added.  
  
"Any spells in there?" asked Sophia, standing on tip-toe to look over Sissy shoulder and she opened the historical text.  
  
"Not really, but it's got some great stuff on Merlin in it," said Martin brightly. "Father has an old set at the house," he explained. "But I've heard he's in the newest edition of volume five."  
  
"You'll need that for all those advanced history classes you talk about taking," said Sophia very practically.  
  
"Of course," said Sissy with a pleased smirk.  
  
"I can hardly believe you're almost a year _and_ a half older than me," said Martin, shaking his head.  
  
"And a good six inches taller too," she said teasingly, looking down at him.  
  
"Are we still on for tonight?" asked Corinna.  
  
"While you're at practice, Martin, Sophia, and I will be unobtrusively sneaking food from the kitchens to be kept in our dormitory until such time as we can have the common room for ourselves," said Olivia.  
  
"What about the cats?" asked Martin, who had already been introduced to Max and Sukie. They made him want to sneeze.  
  
"I'll ward the food," said Olivia with a wave of her hand.  
  
"I'll help," said Sissy, arching an eyebrow. Even simple wards were complicated spells.  
  
"No! It's your birthday! You don't get to help!" protested Olivia.  
  
"Then hide the chocolate. I hear that it does terrible things to small animals, cats in particular," said Sissy coolly, although she didn't mean it to sound so sinister.  
  
  
The house elves, who were models of efficiency and ingenuity, had packed three substantial picnic baskets for them to carry back to the Aerie. To be fair, Martin had expected that they would be shoving biscuits into their pockets or carrying a hastily prepared cake between them somehow. The elves, who were very fond of the castle children, exceeded their expectations, filling the baskets with all sorts of goodies. Martin had watched them stuff his basket with ginger newts, which were his mother's favorites, cinnamon salamanders, and lemon tortoises, which his father liked. He was grinning from ear to ear by the time he picked up the heavy basket. He only hoped that they were things that met with Sissy's approval too as they were for her birthday party.  
  
The girls had baskets full of dessert cakes and other baked goodies that were still warm and smelled ever so delicious.  
  
As they were on their way out of the kitchens with their spoils, the door opened to reveal two Gryffindors somewhat older than they were. One was a boy with very tidy red hair and an enormous smile that made his cheeks dimple. He was laughing with his house mate, who was following just after him. His companion was a girl who had similarly colored hair whom Sissy had pointed out to him once as Molly Earnshaw, the exceptional Gryffindor Beater. The smile vanished from the boy's face as he caught sight of them clutching their baskets.  
  
"What have we here? Raiders in broad daylight?" he asked, leaning down a little to speak to Martin as he was starting to get rather tall and lanky.  
  
"I could say the same to you," said Martin, inclining his chin slightly.  
  
"Oh, let him alone, Arthur. Can't you see it's Dumbledore's son?" asked Molly, tugging her companion out of the way by the sleeve of his obviously second-hand robe.  
  
Arthur grinned and, once he got his sleeve free of Molly's grasp, clapped Martin on the shoulder and said, "Your old man's all right. We're in his house."  
  
"Thanks," said Martin, blushing slightly and adjusting his grip on the basket.  
  
"We thought you were a sure thing for Gryffindor," said Arthur, earning a poke in the ribs from Molly, who was a bit larger than him, though not as tall.  
  
"But Ravenclaw is a good house too," she said forcefully.  
  
"Right, of course it is," nodded Arthur. Then he leaned down and spoke in a slightly conspiratorial voice, glancing at the girls behind Martin. "I hear you're good friends with that girl Howard who dueled with a vampire and cursed Astrophel Black."  
  
"Er, I suppose," answered Martin. Olivia jabbed him in the back. "Yes, yes, I am," he amended, making a mental note to glare at her later.  
  
"Well, tell her from Molly and me ..."  
  
"Don't you dare, Arthur!"  
  
"Tell her from me then, that Black had it coming a long time ago," said Weasley with a wide smile.  
  
"Of course," Martin stammered, "I'll pass that along."  
  
"You do that," he said, clapping him on the shoulder again, which Martin was beginning to find rather annoying as it smarted and could very well upset the biscuits in his basket.  
  
"We had better be on our way or the halls will be crowded when we try to take this to our common room," said Sophia.  
  
"And you wouldn't want to be seen with those," said Arthur, nodding at the baskets.  
  
"It's for Sissy's birthday," Martin defended.  
  
"That's very sweet! Why don't you ever do anything like that for me, Arthur?" asked Molly, whacking his arm none too gently.  
  
"Your birthday's after school lets out!" he protested with a grimace.  
  
"We had better go," said Martin, having the distinct feeling that Olivia was about to prod him again.  
  
"Have fun then," said Arthur, letting them squeeze through the kitchen entrance.  
  
As soon as they had made it out of ear shot, Olivia hissed, "Can you believe the nerve of those Gryffindors talking down to us like that? I can't!"  
  
"I don't think they ..." began Martin.  
  
"It's just their nature. All of them are arrogant. The whole lot," said Sophia with a shrug. "But if you get past that, they seem sort of nice in their own way," she added.  
  
Martin frowned. He hadn't thought the two Gryffindors arrogant. No more so than other older students. Of course, this wasn't the first time he had noticed sentiments of blatant dislike from his friends and house mates.  
  
"Gryffindors are reckless."  
  
"Gryffindors are uncouth."  
  
"Gryffindors smell."  
  
He had never questioned the house rivalry, but after meeting Arthur Weasley and Molly Earnshaw face to face, he wasn't so sure that it was fair. Not that he could change things. He was a Ravenclaw. End of discussion.  
  
  
It was half past ten before the rest of the students had cleared out of the common room and gone to bed, perhaps hoping to get an early jump on Halloween, which was the very next day. Corinna, Olivia, and Sophia all grinned at one another before leaving their seats and scrambling for the stairs to their dormitory. Sissy just chuckled as she made her way over to her favorite chair in front of the hearth.  
  
"Olivia said that we'd have a fire in there pretty soon," said Martin, nodding toward the fireplace as he made himself comfortable on the couch.  
  
"We could have one now," offered Sissy, drawing her wand.  
  
"Not cold enough yet," he answered with a shrug, although it was becoming a bit nippy at night. He just didn't want Sissy to light a fire with magic as the repercussions could be quite serious. She was bound to over do it.  
  
"It's unseasonably warm. Not at all like last year. We already had a bit of snow by the end of October," she told him, curling up in her chair.  
  
"Was it nice?" he asked.  
  
"Indoors," she said with a slight sneer. "Sophia and Olivia loved it," she added with a softer expression to which he wasn't as accustomed.  
  
"But not you and Corinna?"  
  
"No," she answered, "we preferred watching them from the windows and sipping our hot chocolate."  
  
Just then they heard the sound of the others giggling as they walked down the stairs, struggling to be quiet as they lugged the picnic baskets. Martin cracked a smile as he watched Corinna heft the basket that he had carried from the kitchen.  
  
"This had better not be full of stones," she said, noticing his smile as he watched her from the couch.  
  
"You didn't check?" he asked with an innocent and mock-incredulous look.  
  
Corinna rolled her eyes as they deposited the baskets in front of the hearth.  
  
"What'll you have, Sissy?" asked Olivia as she began removing desserts from her basket. She was certain that they would never be able to eat everything the house elves had generously, and rather gleefully, provided for them.  
  
"Chocolate cake?" she asked, pointing to the slice she wanted, which was artfully arranged on a small plate.  
  
"There you are," said Olivia, passing her the indicated portion.  
  
"I've got the forks and napkins," said Sophia, taking one of each from her basket.  
  
"Very good. Otherwise this would be a deplorably messy party," commented Sissy.  
  
"And the drinks?" asked Corinna, who was dividing the biscuits onto plates.  
  
"Bottled pumpkin juice," answered Sophia, holding up a bottle.  
  
"No butterbeer?" asked Sissy.  
  
"The elves only had it on tap. They would have had to go to Hogsmeade to get it bottled. But tomorrow night at the feast ..." said Sophia with a smile.  
  
"That's a treat. They didn't have any last year," said Sissy.  
  
"Because some Gryffindors managed to swipe all of the kegs!" said Olivia.  
  
"No matter. Pumpkin juice is just fine," said Sissy, accepting a bottle from Sophia. She was pleasantly surprised to find that it was still chilled.  
  
"I can't believe you got ginger newts. They're my favorites," said Corinna as she gave everyone a plate full of cookies that would last an ordinary person a week.  
  
"My mum loves them," said Martin, going straight for the cinnamon salamanders. For the first time Martin pondered how odd it was that the house elves should choose to supply them with his parents' favorite cookies.  
  
"This is very nice," said Sissy as she took a bite of her cake.  
  
"Well, after the week you've had and all ..." said Sophia with a sympathetic half-smile.  
  
"Almost makes it worth it," she joked.  
  
"Say, it isn't Ravenclaw's night for patrolling the corridors, is it?" asked Olivia, glancing at the clock.  
  
"No, it's Gryffindor and Slytherin tonight, so we can stay down here as long as we like," answered Corinna.  
  
"Perfect," said Sissy, reaching for her plate of biscuits.  
  
  
The hour was late, sometime past midnight, when they heard a door open with a slight squeak. They all immediately stopped talking and laughing. The thought that they had awakened a prefect flitted through Sophia's mind as she hunched lower on the couch. The others simply froze where they were sitting, afraid to look toward the origin of the sound. Then Martin realized that someone was walking down the stairs to the first year dormitory. His stomach tightened as he looked over the back of the couch and saw Middleton making his way down the stairs.  
  
"What's going on down here?" he asked, standing on the bottom stair and looking at them. Martin noted that he didn't look as though he had come from bed, although he was wearing his pajamas.  
  
"Birthday party," answered Martin.  
  
"For who?"  
  
"Sissy," answered Martin, nodding toward where Sissy remained curled up in her chair with a nearly finished plate of cake balanced on her knee. It was only her second.  
  
"You know, I think Wainwright, Halliday, and I might like to join you," said Middleton, turning back toward the dormitory.  
  
"It's a private party, thanks," said Olivia.  
  
"Oh, is it?" asked Middleton with an ugly smirk.  
  
"Yes, it is," said Sophia, who, along with the other girls, knew that this boy was one of them who gave Martin trouble.  
  
"And you are out numbered five to one, in case you haven't noticed," Sissy informed him coolly as she uncurled herself from her chair, put the half-eaten cake aside, and drew her wand.  
  
"As much trouble as you've been in? I don't think you'll be using that on me. Wouldn't want to risk expulsion, would you?" he asked in a smug tone.  
  
"I've got a clean slate," said a voice that Martin recognized from the doorway at the top of the stairs, "and those purple spots won't come off by themselves. Fancy Madam Pomfrey taking a look at your fat bum, Middleton?"  
  
Martin squinted to see Julian Woodward standing in the shadows behind Middleton with his wand raised. He voice was very neutral, except perhaps for a hint of slight irritation as he made his thinly veiled threat.  
  
"Can't you leave well enough alone, Woodward?" asked Middleton.  
  
"Can't you?" he shot back. "I'll give you to the count of three to get back in the dormitory," he said with authority far beyond that of an ordinary eleven-year-old.  
  
"All right, all right," muttered Middleton.  
  
"Very good then," said Woodward. After Middleton had slipped past him into the room, he walked down a few steps and into the dim light of the common room, looking at the leftover desserts curiously.  
  
"Care to join us?" asked Sissy.  
  
"No, thank you. It isn't healthy to eat so much before going to bed," said Woodward a bit primly. Then, having satisfied his curiosity, he turned and retreated back into the dormitory.  
  
"Interesting fellow," commented Sophia.  
  
"I like him. He's got nerve," said Olivia with a grin.  
  
"Julian Woodward," Martin told them. At that moment he quite liked his fellow first year too. He had a knack for putting people, especially Middleton, in their place.  
  
"Do you get on all right with him?" asked Olivia.  
  
"I'm not sure, actually. He isn't the talkative sort," Martin explained.  
  
"Well, do try and thank him for us, would you?" asked Sophia with a smile. "I can only imagine the incident we just avoided."  
  
"I was only threatening. I certainly wouldn't have done anything," said Sissy, who had returned to her chair and cake.  
  
"Of course not," said Olivia, trying to hide a slightly wolfish smile with a napkin.  
  
"Really ..." Sissy sighed.  
  
"We should clean up and go to bed before we really _are_ caught by a prefect or something," said Sophia.  
  


* * *

A/N: Not a very exciting chapter, but I thought things should get better for Sissy.  
  
  
HMT: I'm glad you enjoyed the longer chapter. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: Dumbledore doesn't strike me as being the sort of person who would approve of Pringle's methods. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	25. War and honor

Chapter Twenty-five  
  
War and honor  
  
  
  
Martin woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, possibly from his sugar consumption the night before. But as he went about his morning routine he remembered that he had a duty to perform. He had to talk with Julian Woodward and thank him for helping his friends and him out during their confrontation with Middleton, who could have got Sissy into serious trouble if he had provoked her any further or if Woodward had not showed up when he did.  
  
As luck would have it, Woodward was brushing his teeth when Martin walked into the bath. He was up early that morning for whatever reason. Martin, on the other hand, always tried to be first out of the showers and down to the common room to meet the girls.  
  
"Good morning," said Martin.  
  
Woodward mumbled something unintelligible around his toothbrush in response. It didn't sound particularly heartening.  
  
"The girls wanted me to thank you," Martin continued.  
  
"How come?" he asked, removing the toothbrush with a hint of annoyance.  
  
"Well, I mean, you stopped Middleton from bullying us," he tried to explain.  
  
"You're welcome then," he replied before reinserting the toothbrush and glaring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.  
  
"I was wondering something ..." Martin said hesitantly. Woodward grunted impatiently. "Why'd you do it?" he asked.  
  
"What? You'd rather I didn't?" he asked after spitting into the basin.  
  
"Not at all!" said Martin quickly. "I was only curious."  
  
"My father was in the war with yours. Your father saved my father's life. I figure I would exist if it weren't for that. So I guess I'm trying to help my father repay his debt to yours the best I can," said Woodward sternly. Martin could tell it wasn't an answer that he wanted to give.  
  
"I didn't know that," Martin stammered.  
  
"Why should you?" Woodward shrugged.  
  
"I don't know very much about the war ..."  
  
"My point exactly," he answered, reaching for his comb, "but I can hardly blame you for that. My father never liked to talk about it much either. Says it was horrible."  
  
"I suppose it was. I had ... nightmares about it when I was little," Martin admitted.  
  
"You don't say? But I reckon you were there, weren't you?" he asked, forgetting his morning routine for a moment and looking at Martin with curious gray eyes.  
  
"There?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"When Grindelwald and his followers came for your father," said Woodward with a sudden frown.  
  
"I wasn't quite a year old when the war ended. I don't remember anything ... except that mum was afraid, and she's really brave, so that's saying something," he explained.  
  
"But didn't they come to your house?" Julian persisted.  
  
"I ... I don't know," said Martin with a frown.  
  
"Looks like I really do know more about what happened back then than you do. I was about the same age, but my father did tell me things when I was old enough to understand and there's loads of old news articles that I've read before," said Woodward in a slightly haughty tone. "My suggestion for you is to read up and talk to your father because those other blokes in there," he said, nodding toward the dormitory, "might never let you alone about it."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I'm content with what I know," he answered, going back to combing his hair.  
  
"So was I ... until now," thought Martin to himself as he headed for the showers.  
  
  
Martin wished in vain that it were Tuesday, the day when he had lunch with his father in his office and talked with him. There were questions whirling around in his brain that desperately needed answers. He contemplated owling his mum, but he knew that she would never answer those questions. She still thought of him as a baby, which annoyed Martin to no end. He had only two choices: wait until Tuesday or visit his father after classes. Then he remembered that he had Transfigurations with his father that afternoon. That would be the perfect time to suggest that they meet after classes, if his father wasn't supervising any detentions.  
  
  
"As my request has been denied regarding a lesson on transfiguring pumpkins into polecats as a special holiday treat, today we will begin our lesson on changing mittens into mice," Professor Dumbledore announced at the beginning of class.  
  
Olivia scribbled a note for Martin on a scrap bit of parchment: _Where does he come up with these ideas_?  
  
He quickly and furtively wrote back: _I don't know, but mum's the same way_!  
  
Olivia was quick to stifle a giggle as Dumbledore instructed the students to come and collect a mitten from his desk where well over a dozen mismatched mittens of various sizes and colors were lying in a pile.  
  
"You will all be working in pairs, or in a group, but please collect a mitten each as I would like you to be able to compare your mice," said the professor.  
  
Martin, Olivia, and Sophia were still working together in a group of three as this seemed to be a very useful arrangement because of their varying skill levels, especially since Martin had got over his anxiety about doing magic in front of his father.  
  
"I think this used to be mine," said Martin thoughtfully as he held up a red and gold mitten that appeared to have no match, like the rest of the articles.  
  
"Your parents definitely wanted you to be a Gryffindor," commented Olivia, choosing a larger green mitten.  
  
Martin just shrugged and said, "It's not as if I dislike the colors, you know."  
  
About half an hour later they were looking at three mice: a very fuzzy red one that belonged to Martin, a fat green-tinted one belonging to Olivia, and a brown-and-white mottled mouse that was Sophia's. None of them were very lively, but Sophia's would squeak from time to time.  
  
Of course, there was also Sissy and Corinna's mice, which varied more sharply as Sissy's mouse was more mitten-like than any of the others while Corinna's had tried to escape, scooting under desks and scrambling across the floor. Once it had been recaptured with the help of a couple of the Gryffindors, this earned her five points from Professor Dumbledore.  
  
After the mittens had all been changed back and returned to the professor's desk, a few of them, oddly enough, still squeaking, Dumbledore dismissed class. Normally Martin left straight away for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but as he had a few moments to spare, he lingered.  
  
"Something I can help you with, Martin?" asked Dumbledore as he located the squeaking mittens and fixed whatever had been done to them.  
  
"I was wondering if you're busy after classes today," said Martin.  
  
"I have a brief staff meeting just after my next class, but after that I am free until dinner," said the professor.  
  
"Can I drop by your office then? I have something I want to ask you."  
  
"Of course. You are welcome there at any time," said Dumbledore, wondering what could be on his son's mind.  
  
"Thank you," Martin nodded before starting off to class.  
  
  
Martin wasn't sure how long his father's meeting would last, so he spent about half an hour after defense class working on an essay in the library with Olivia and Sophia, who were researching information for a potions' assignment. Then he excused himself, assuring them that he would meet them for dinner, and went to his father's office. The door was open again, and Martin could hear the clink of tea things being set up, which made him smile despite the seriousness of the conversation he was about to have.  
  
"I thought we could use something to drink, and the house elves have informed me that you enjoy their cookies very much," said Professor Dumbledore as Martin walked into the office, closing the door behind him.  
  
"I do," said Martin, wondering if he should explain about the birthday party.  
  
Gesturing to a seat at the table by the window, Dumbledore said, "As do I and as did your mother during her time here."  
  
His mother had been one of his father's best students just before the Grindelwald conflict had become a serious problem. She very seldom came back to the school to visit, but Martin had been hearing stories of her school years as far back as he could remember.  
  
Martin took a seat and helped himself to a cinnamon salamander. He glanced at the overcast sky outside and sighed. Corinna hated practicing in dreary weather.  
  
"There was something you wished to talk about?" Dumbledore prompted him.  
  
"Yes," said Martin, suddenly feeling rather uncertain. "It's about the war ..."  
  
"Are your year mates still asking questions?" he asked with a frown.  
  
"Not especially, but one of them says you saved his father's life during the war. He ... he helps keep the other boys from bothering me," Martin explained awkwardly.  
  
"And his name would be?"  
  
"Julian Woodward," Martin replied.  
  
Dumbledore furrowed his brow for a moment before saying, "I suppose he must be Kenneth Woodward's son then."  
  
"Who's he?"  
  
"He was an Auror, a fully qualified one, who helped deal with Grindelwald's supporters in England and abroad. We worked together on a few assignments," answered Dumbledore.  
  
"And you saved his life?" asked Martin.  
  
"In a manner of speaking. During a raid on a meeting of Grindelwald's followers, a killing curse was cast at Kenneth. I ... moved him out of the way. His leg was broken in two places, but he did survive," said Dumbledore. "There was so little time ... and the Banishing spell I used was too strong," he added.  
  
Martin shuddered slightly. He never liked thinking about the war and how dangerous it was for his father, and apparently for the parents of his friends and classmates as well.  
  
"Was that earlier on in the war then?" he asked a bit timidly.  
  
"About two and a half years before the end of it, actually," said Dumbledore. "No one was aware that Grindelwald had operatives and active followers in England for a long time. He had a strong foothold before we were the wiser."  
  
Martin nodded. He understood that part rather well. His parents had often talked about the former followers of Grindelwald when they thought he wasn't listening. Most of them, if he remembered correctly, had been from pureblooded, Slytherin families. And more than a few were in Azkaban now.  
  
"Is that all you wanted to know?" asked Professor Dumbledore.  
  
Martin shifted in his seat and looked out the window with a frown.  
  
"Woodward told me something that's been bothering me," he admitted.  
  
"Go on," said Dumbledore, leaning forward in his seat.  
  
"He said that Grindelwald came for you, that he came to our house with his followers. I wanted to know if that was true," said Martin solemnly.  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and said, "Yes, in a manner of speaking."  
  
"Seems like it would either be true or not true," muttered Martin darkly.  
  
"He did send his followers to come looking for me, just days after I became the head of the Anti-Grindelwald Taskforce, and some of those followers searched the house ..."  
  
"Then it is true," said Martin, interrupting.  
  
Dumbledore rubbed his eyes under his spectacles. His wife would have a fit if she knew that he was telling Martin such things.  
  
"He would never have found you or your mother. None of them would have. I had put a Fidelius Charm on the two of you, with the assistance of Professor Flitwick, so they could have passed within two inches of either of you and never realized. You were never in any danger," he explained, "but, yes, they did come looking for me, for all of us really."  
  
"Where were you? Was this when you dueled with him?" asked Martin, taking in the information slowly. It felt like a fog was settling over his brain.  
  
"I was in France, but I came back straight away. I didn't duel with him until a month later when we found his headquarters," he answered. He considered adding, "And by that time, I was ready to take his head off with my bare hands." But he did not wish to frighten Martin, who already looked a bit peaky.  
  
"Woodward knows a lot more about the war than I do," said Martin, shaking his head.  
  
"As well he should. Kenneth was in Intelligence, you know," chuckled Dumbledore before taking out his pocket watch. "Are you looking forward to the feast tonight?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, very much," said Martin, managing a smile.  
  
"Then you should perhaps return to your dormitory and get ready for it."  
  
"Of course. Thanks for everything, father," he said, leaving his seat.  
  
"You are quite welcome."  
  
  
The Great Hall was festively decorated that evening when the five young Ravenclaws went to dinner. Martin couldn't help but grin as he looked up at the ornately carved jackolanterns that lit the hall with a cheerful sort of orange light. It was wonderful. The ghosts seemed to be in especially good spirits. He overheard Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor house ghost, talking in a very animated fashion about his Death Day, which seemed to be today. The Grey Lady, his own house ghost, was listening with apparent interest.  
  
"Yes, four hundred and sixty-five years," said Nicholas, shaking his head, which seemed to on the verge of sliding off his neck.  
  
"I think last year was better," commented Olivia as they passed by the ghosts, "what with the thunder and lightning and all."  
  
"No thanks!" said Corinna. The team had been let out of practice early because of the celebration.  
  
They took their seats at the house table, waiting for the rest of the students to arrive before the feast would begin.  
  
Martin looked up again and shivered slightly as a flock of live black bats flew across the enchanted ceiling overhead. It was rather spooky and reminded him of the vampire. He glanced and Sissy and Corinna, who had also seen the vampire in bat form, and noted that their expressions had turned slightly grim as well. There had been no word on the vampire in several weeks, but he imagined that it might due to feed again soon.  
  
"Try not to think about it," counseled Sophia, noting the distress of her companions.  
  
"It isn't easy," said Sissy, voicing the thoughts of the other two as she spoke.  
  
"I'll never look at a bat the same way again," said Martin very seriously.  
  
"Do you suppose they can all do that? Turn into bats, I mean. Do you think Zabini could manage it?" asked Corinna.  
  
They all glanced furtively toward the Slytherin table where Andrea Zabini was seated with his house mates. They no longer appeared to be so cold toward him. He was smiling a little, but even from that distance, his dark red eyes still seemed sad. And none of them wanted to think about what was in his goblet. It certainly wasn't pumpkin juice.  
  
"I don't know ... Animagus training would still be required, wouldn't it?" asked Martin.  
  
"Maybe it comes naturally to them," said Sissy.  
  
"You think?" asked Sophia, not liking that idea at all.  
  
"Must we talk about this tonight?" asked Olivia.  
  
"Hardly appropriate conversation for Halloween, is it?" asked Sissy with a trace of sarcasm in her voice.  
  
"Very funny," said Olivia, rolling her eyes.  
  
"But seriously, Martin, have you heard anything about the vampire from your father? Is anyone still searching for it?" asked Sophia.  
  
"No, he hasn't told me anything," Martin answered honestly.  
  
"Then chances are nothing is being done," said Sissy.  
  
"Maybe it's gone. I mean, after all that happened ... I'm sure being chased through the forest wasn't part of its plan," said Corinna feebly. She had the rather ominous feeling that it was still lurking out there somewhere, waiting and biding its time before returning to the castle.  
  
"True," Sophia acknowledged quickly.  
  
"It will need to feed again before the end of the term, so we shall see, I suppose," said Sissy in a matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"Ugh! Must we discuss that before dinner!" objected Olivia, who found the notion disgusting and only naturally a bit frightening as well.  
  
Sissy looked at her coolly and replied, "I wasn't the one who opened the topic to discussion."  
  
  
By this time the Great Hall had filled with students and their professor had taken seats at the high table. The buzz of conversation made Corinna smile for a moment. It was nice, she decided, to have one night of camaraderie when the Gryffindors weren't actively sniping at the Slytherins, or vice versa, and when her fellow Ravenclaws weren't bothering the Hufflepuffs over their low marks and so forth. For some reason that nonsense was kept to a minimum at the Halloween feast, and Corinna didn't mind its absence at all.  
  
Before the feast began, as per custom, Armando Dippet stood and addressed the student body, usually with a few light-hearted words about watching their consumption of sweets and other treats and how much he had enjoyed the term so far. Corinna had a sudden, terrible feeling as the aging professor rose from his chair to say a few words that it would be the last time he would do so as headmaster of Hogwarts.  
  
"May I have your attention," he began, raising his voice and smiling at the students. This was how he almost always started a speech to them.  
  
The students gradually grew quieter and turned their attention to the high table. Corinna felt a twinge of sadness as she watched Dippet beam down at them, especially the Ravenclaw table. His house ties had remained strong throughout the years. But there was a certain brightness in his eyes as he surveyed them for perhaps a moment too long. He seemed strangely wistful. And it tied Corinna's stomach into knots.  
  
"He is going to leave us," she thought.  
  
"I have noticed the house elves baking cookies in record numbers this evening," Dippet began, only to be greeted by more than a smattering of applause from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, which was only naturally followed by slightly derisive laughter from the Slytherins. They simply could not help themselves.   
  
"I caution you to avoid over indulgence," he said with a smile, "although certainly no one will say anything if you stuff your pockets." There was more laughter from all the tables.   
  
"As this has been an especially difficult term so far, I hope that all of enjoy yourselves as much as possible this evening to make up for the stricter curfews, which I must remind you are still in place. I know this has been less than ideal for many of you, and truly appreciate the cooperation that has been given to the prefecture. Let the feast begin!"  
  
The plates filled with food throughout the hall, earning a cheer from the majority of the students, except the Slytherins, who only cheered at Quidditch games or when they won the House Cup.  
  
"Is something the matter, Corinna?" asked Sissy, who was the first to notice that the other girl was staring at her plate and not eating.  
  
"We're going to have a new headmaster soon," she whispered.  
  
"Go on with you!" laughed Olivia, giving her a prod in the ribs.  
  
But they all knew by the look on her face that Corinna was serious, and it troubled them for a long time even as they tried to enjoy the feast.  
  


* * *

A/N: I'm fascinated by Grindelwald. I can't really help it.  
  
  
H.M.T.: You are quite welcome!  
  
HeeroTomoe: I'm glad you enjoyed the detention. When writing something like that, it's difficult to gauge how much is too much (or too little) as far as emotional reactions go. I'm pleased you enjoyed the description as well. I loved your example of 'purple prose.' It was very amusing. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I think you got what you wanted in this chapter. I look at the ablity of the three lower houses (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff) to get along as a by-product of the first war. Before then, I imagined that Ravenclaws would have a bit of prejudice against people who didn't use their heads. Excellent question. Thanks for the review!  
  
mirkwoodmage: Thank you!  
  
  



	26. A lesson in transfigurations

Chapter Twenty-six  
  
A lesson in transfigurations  
  
  
  
The following week in Transfigurations Professor Dumbledore announced that they would be turning cushions into kittens, which would be one of the more difficult transfigurations they would attempt during that portion of the term. On Thursday they studied quite a bit about changing relatively uncomplicated objects, in examplurum cushions, into substantially more complex living objects, such as kittens. The process was not a simple one nor were the three part incantations. But they were considered, oddly enough, part of the foundation for both conjuring and vanishing such objects, and therefore were an integral part of a second year student's education.  
  
It was not until the following Tuesday that Professor Dumbledore actually brought in small cushions, borrowed, presumably, from the staff room, his office, and the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"There are enough for each of you," Dumbledore told them as they approached his cushion covered desk, "but, please, try not to explode any of them by accident as I do not have replacements."  
  
"That means you," said Olivia into Martin's ear.  
  
He went pink and answered, "What? I was sure he was talking to you."  
  
It was very fortunate that Martin did not notice the amused twinkle in his father's eyes or he might not have done as well on the lesson that day.  
  
Corinna and Sissy at the other end of the table were not having quite so much fun as they began the assignment.  
  
Sissy had chosen a well-worn green cushion that had come from a slightly moth-eaten chair in the staff room where Professor Sprout did her knitting in the afternoons. It was already giving Sissy trouble as she realized that she would almost certainly need a color change along with the basic transfiguration. As she wasn't very fond of these transfigurations, common household objects into small animals, she hoped that she would get a break, but there had been almost no white, black, or brown cushions, much less anything in a tabby.  
  
"Bother. I need to concentrate," said Sissy shortly. "You have a go at it first," she told Corinna, who had a small, beige colored cushion from Dumbledore's office. It was rather dusty as it had lain in a corner since the previous term, forgotten and unused.  
  
Corinna frowned and looked up the text book they were using and asked, "Are you sure?"  
  
Sissy gave her a look that said she was quite sure and to get on with it.  
  
Corinna removed her wand from her pocket and took a deep breath, keenly aware that Sissy was watching her and trying to learn from what she was doing. That certainly didn't help matters. She repeated the incantation twice to herself before speaking it and waving her wand evenly over the cushion. Then she closed her eyes for a moment.  
  
"Meow?"  
  
Corinna grinned when she opened her eyes to see a small off-white, almost fawn colored kitten, about the same size that Max had been when Olivia had first brought him to school, sitting on the desk and staring at her with inquisitive golden yellow eyes. She reached toward it, and the kitten leaned toward her hand, almost begging for her to tickle underneath its chin. Corinna giggled and picked it up, cuddling the kitten as she examined it for defects in the transfiguration.  
  
"You're disgusting," said Sissy enviously. "It looks and sounds exactly like a real cat."  
  
"It feels like one too. It's even warm," Corinna commented.  
  
Sissy rolled her eyes and said, "Well, you're going to be of no use for the rest of the lesson." She knew how very much Corinna wanted a cat, or a kitten, of her very own.  
  
"I can still help you ..." she began, trying to get the small cat to take its claws out of her robes as she attempted to return it to the desk.  
  
"I think I can manage," said Sissy with a slight smirk.  
  
  
Near the end of the lesson, Professor Dumbledore began making his way around the room, assessing the varying degrees of success his students had had and awarding house points accordingly. All but a few of the students from his own house had failed to achieve the desired result, but the Ravenclaw students seemed to have done better. Chang and his partner both had small, oddly colored kittens on their desk that were very docile and not very physically coordinated, but had been adequately transfigured given that it was the first part of their practical lesson. Another day would be spent on the topic. His son had also achieved a similar degree of success.  
  
After Dumbledore had finished examining Miss Howard's listless, greenish kitten, he frowned and asked where her partner had got off to. He was looking forward to seeing what Miss Bellew had accomplished as she was certainly one of his better students.  
  
"Over there," said Sissy, nodding toward a quiet corner of the room before looking at her transfigured kitten with an expression of dissatisfaction.  
  
The professor found his student seated on the floor and playing with a rather energetic kitten that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the cushion from whence it had come. He observed for a moment before stepping close enough to get her attention. When she looked up, he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Corinna hastily blinked them away and gathered her kitten into her arms.  
  
"May I see it?" asked the professor.  
  
"You're going to change him back, aren't you?" she asked in return.  
  
"I'm sure you know that the transfiguration will wear off on its own eventually," Dumbledore informed her.  
  
"I know, but ... I really wanted to keep him. Silly, isn't it?" she sniffed, holding out the kitten to him. She had already thought up a name for him and everything.  
  
Dumbledore took the kitten from her and started examining it, choosing not to answer her question until he had done so. The little cat apparently didn't like being handled by the professor, who was not nearly so gentle as Corinna had been, and tried to give him a scratch, which rather surprised him. The kitten had tiny, but perfectly formed claws, and a bit of a temper too.  
  
"Not very silly, Miss Bellew," he said as he returned the animal to her. "I'll award you ten points for the precision and detail," Dumbledore added.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said, but it barely seemed as though she meant it. "I always wanted a kitten of my own. How long do you think he will last before he turns back into a cushion?" Corinna questioned.  
  
"Maybe a few days, if you're lucky," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Not very long then ..." she sighed, giving the kitten a scratch behind the ears. He responded with a loud purr and what appeared to be the cat version of a smile.  
  
"I suppose I could attempt to make the transfiguration permanent, but ... if yours was not perfect, he will eventually become sick and die," he said with a rather uncomfortable look.  
  
"You mean if his insides still contain bits of stuffing?"  
  
"That's right," said Dumbledore.  
  
"He seems all right ..." Corinna hedged hopefully.  
  
The professor nodded slowly in agreement. If he had not known that the animal had been transfigured, he would never have guessed, which said something about Corinna's skills in the subject. And about her desire for a feline familiar.  
  
"Give him to me, and I will see what I can do," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Of course, although you do understand that it will need to be taken care of like a normal cat, don't you, Miss Bellew?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes, certainly, professor," she nodded, giving the reluctant kitten back to him.  
  
"Please come by my office to collect him immediately after dinner this evening. I should be finished by then," he instructed her.  
  
  
That night when Corinna walked into the dormitory with her kitten, which she had named Oscar, for the first time, she looked as happy as any of the other girls had ever seen her. They knew, of course, about how much she wanted a pet of her very own, preferably one of the feline persuasion.  
  
"I can't believe Professor Dumbledore did that for you," commented Sophia, watching as her own cat Sukie and Olivia's Max stared up at the kitten in Corinna's arms. The two cats seemed to ... exchange wary glances, almost as though they could tell that something was not right about this newcomer.  
  
"It was really nice of him," agreed Corinna with a huge smile.  
  
"Well, you are his best student, at least in our year," defended Olivia, giving Sophia a bit of a look.  
  
"Have you named it?" asked Sissy from her bed. "Morsel-for-Zubin might be nice," she thought to herself, watching her owl, which had already returned from a successful hunt. Zubin was eyeing the small kitten with an unusual expression. "We must have a talk," thought Sissy unpleasantly.  
  
"Oscar," said Corinna with another smile.  
  
"It's a nice name," said Sophia, nodding in approval.  
  
"Very Ravenclaw," Olivia agreed.  
  
"Copernicus is very Ravenclaw. Oscar is ..." Sissy disagreed.  
  
"_Gentleman in his Study_'s first name is Oscar!" protested Olivia vehemently, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"You've got me there," admitted Sissy, rolling her eyes slightly. That little fact was something only Olivia would have known.  
  
"Oh! I saw Martin down in the common room. I said I would try to get all of you to join him," said Corinna, suddenly remembering.  
  
"Ah! A cure for boredom," said Sissy with an amused smile.  
  
"Wait. Wasn't he supposed to be working on an essay ... in the library?" questioned Sophia with a frown.  
  
"He's finishing up in the common room instead ... before the lights go out. He wanted company," explained Corinna.  
  
"Let's go then," said Olivia.  
  
"Should I leave Oscar here?" asked Corinna, looking down at the sleepy kitten she was holding.  
  
"Er, not until I explain some things to Zubin," said Sissy.  
  
The owl looked at her with an expression of betrayal.  
  
  
Martin was still waiting for them, albeit a little impatiently, when the girls found the nook he had chosen. His finished essay was in front of him as he was letting the ink dry. He smiled when he saw Corinna, who was still focusing all of her attention on her new kitten. He was unfortunately a bit on the allergic side, which was an unending source of ironic jokes in his family as his mother's Animagus form was feline in nature.  
  
"About time!" he joked as they found seats.  
  
"Patience," said Sissy with a little smirk, eyeing his parchment, which was covered in a hastily scribbled script that could hardly pass for true penmanship.  
  
"Herbology?" asked Corinna to be certain.  
  
"Yes, Madam Sprout wanted eight inches on something carnivorous," he answered.  
  
"So unnatural," murmured Sissy under her breath.  
  
"I thought they were sort of interesting," said Martin a bit defensively.  
  
"Same here," agreed Corinna.  
  
"Is this why we've come down here?" asked Sissy, wrinkling her nose at the topic of conversation.  
  
"No, actually I wanted to ask all of you something," he prefaced, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
Even Oscar seemed to perk up a bit at this.  
  
"What?" asked Olivia.  
  
"There's been talk that Professor Dippet won't be headmaster for very much longer ..." he said.  
  
"Just talk," Sophia told him solemnly.  
  
"Yeah," Olivia quickly agreed.  
  
"Maybe. But if he leaves the school ... if that happens, will my father be ..." he said, trailing off and wincing visibly. They all knew precisely what he meant.  
  
"It's almost a sure thing. You father would be our next headmaster," said Sissy calmly.  
  
"Because he's the deputy headmaster?" he questioned.  
  
"That's right," she nodded.  
  
"I don't understand something. How did he get that position? I mean, I'm sure some of the professor have been here longer, right?"  
  
Sophia and Corinna looked mildly puzzled, as though they had never really given the subject much thought before. They hadn't actually.  
  
"Flitwick and Mallaghan both have seniority," said Olivia.  
  
"Then why isn't one of them Professor Dippet's deputy?" asked Martin.  
  
"Professor Mallaghan? In charge of the school? You must be mad!" Corinna blurted out. She was the only one of them to have significant contact with the Divinations' professor. And though she was very fond of him, she knew that Mallaghan would have been hopeless at the Herculean task of running Hogwarts.  
  
"Not everyone can do the job," clarified Sissy.  
  
"But Professor Flitwick could," said Martin. He rather liked and respected their head of house. He wasn't alone in that sentiment.  
  
"He could, but ... he can't," said Olivia.  
  
They all looked at her rather oddly after she made that seemingly contradictory statement.  
  
"That makes a lot of sense," said Sissy.  
  
Olivia blushed slightly. It was a somewhat rare occurrence, and as she wore her hair in a bun, she always seemed to blush from the tips of her ears to the collar of her robes and everywhere in-between.  
  
"I did some research about the professor's dueling career after I had those detentions with him, and I realized why he isn't in a better position, you know," said Olivia, clasping her hands in her lap.  
  
Sophia checked to make sure no one was listening before she asked, "Why then?"  
  
"He accidentally killed a wizard in a duel," Olivia admitted in a low voice.  
  
"He _killed_ someone?" said Martin incredulously.  
  
"Accidentally," corrected Olivia as her head snapped up. She was glaring just a bit.  
  
"Did you happen to stumble across any details in this research of yours?" asked Sissy in a curious, but cautious tone. She could tell that Olivia's temper was going to flare at any minute.  
  
"If any of this got out, it could seriously undermine his position as our head of house. I mean, this would certainly be something we aren't supposed to know," said Sophia in a very serious tone.  
  
"It was only a Stunning Spell that hit his opponent just right. It stopped his heart. Flitwick tried to revive the other wizard himself, but it was simply no use," said Olivia.  
  
Sophia looked a bit relieved at this news. Sissy seemed ... disappointed. An interesting contrast of temperaments on display. Martin, not to mention Corinna, found all of the proceedings unnerving to say the least.  
  
"Then why would it affect his career?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Think about it. Would you want someone who'd killed a man teaching your children?" asked Sophia.  
  
Sissy raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak, but Corinna cut in: "For the love of Merlin! Don't answer that!"  
  
"Fine," said Sissy, who wasn't necessarily thinking 'yes', but certainly was not thinking an unequivocal 'no' either.  
  
"I see your point," said Martin with a nod. "I was only curious, and I didn't want to ask my father how he got his job," he added.  
  
"I don't think Professor Dippet is going anywhere," said Sophia. Olivia nodded her agreement. "So you won't have to worry about being the headmaster's son for a while yet," Sophia said with a bit of a smile, and perhaps laughter in her dark eyes.  
  
"Shows, eh?" questioned Martin with a lop-sided smile.  
  
"Perhaps a bit," she replied.  
  
"You can't imagine how the other boys would probably tease me," he said, glancing toward a cluster of first years.  
  
"Of course we can! We have loads of imagination!" said Olivia a bit indignantly.  
  
"That's not what he meant," said Sophia.  
  
"Well, at least you get along with that Woodward fellow. He wouldn't say anything about it, right?" said Olivia.  
  
Martin smiled and said, "No, he wouldn't. He's rather nicer than the rest of them."  
  
"Are they still bothering you then?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Not really. They're terrified of that hex Woodward claims to know," said Martin with a shrug.  
  
"You should learn a few good hexes," suggested Sissy.  
  
"Sissy ..." said Sophia in a warning tone.  
  
"I know some, but I can't threaten as well as he does," Martin admitted.  
  
"I should think not," said Sissy, "as it is a fine art, you know. Hardly something you can just pick up on your own."  
  
"She's right. My father ..." Olivia began to tell them.  
  
But the other girls made groaning sounds and stopped their ears, even Sophia, who was usually above such things. To the best of Martin's recollection, this was the first time Olivia had mentioned her family. He was puzzled by the other girls' reactions to say the least.  
  
"What's this about?" asked Martin.  
  
"Her father is in the Department of Magical Cooperation. Don't ever let her tell you her stories," Sissy warned, unplugging her ears.  
  
"I didn't know you were a Ministry brat too!" Martin exclaimed heedlessly.  
  
"That's a nice expression," Olivia laughed.  
  
"That makes three of us then," said Sissy, remembering that Martin's mother was an Auror, which was a far more glamorous job than either Olivia's father or her own father had.  
  
Just then the lights dimmed and Olivia and Sissy sighed. It was time for them to retire for the evening, according to the sensibilities of their head of house.  
  
  
Sissy acknowledged, much later when her normally unremarkable temper had cooled, that such an incident was nearly guaranteed to happen. It was unavoidable. It was to be expected. It was only a matter of time. But that made it neither more acceptable to her nor more fair. No matter how many times she told herself those things, it still made her angry.  
  
The incident in question took place in a corridor not very far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom sometime after midday on Tuesday of the following week. The girls were walking from the Great Hall to the Transfigurations classroom, taking the usual route in so much as the constantly changing staircases permitted a 'usual route'.  
  
As they entered the main corridor, Sissy was the first one to realize that something was the matter as many of the students in the crowded hallway were struggling to stifle or contain their laughter. A few students, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs mostly, were frowning and looking around as though they were trying to figure something out. Sissy glimpsed Astrophel Black and his two friends slink down a side corridor. Black was smirking and just tucking his wand away, which did not bode well at all.  
  
Then she spotted Professor Knowles standing rigidly against the far wall between two windows. He looked very angry and confused. It was only after a moment's pause that she realized that he didn't have his cane. And he never left his office without it.  
  
Forgetting her friends, Sissy pushed and shoved her way through the crowd until she reached the professor, scouring the floor as she walked. The cane was no where to be found. Somehow, she decided, Black was responsible for this, but she did not know how or why.  
  
"Sir, are you all right?" she asked Knowles in a low voice.  
  
"Did you see who did it?" he asked her.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir?"  
  
"Someone cast a Reductor Curse on my cane. Did you happen to notice who did it, Miss Howard?" he questioned impatiently.  
  
"No, sir," she replied, coloring at very idea of Black obliterating the defense professor's cane. Of course, she had not witnessed him doing anything and therefore had no right to accuse him.  
  
"Blast!" he muttered through gritted teeth.  
  
"Can I help you to your office, professor?" Sissy asked, suddenly conscious of the fact that her friends were standing with her and that some of the other students in the corridor, mostly Slytherins, were still snickering.  
  
"I have a class in just a few minutes, if you could simply point me in the direction of my classroom," he said with a very forced smile.  
  
"We're going that way," said Sissy.  
  
"Indeed? Are you really?" asked Knowles with a look of indecision.  
  
He had been disoriented by the small explosion that had destroyed his cane, otherwise he would not have considered accepting the assistance of a second year student, even if the student in question was Miss Howard. He would not have needed it either as he had learned to find his way about in much of the castle. But the unexpected event had startled and disoriented him more than he would care to admit. He wasn't certain of anything at that moment, including the direction in which his classroom was located.  
  
"Yes," said Sissy, reaching and taking his arm. She held her breath, hoping that he would not shrug her off or lose his temper.  
  
He did neither. Knowles merely nodded brusquely and accepted her guidance. His expression softened when he realized that Sissy was not the only person walking with him. There were carefully cadenced footfalls on either side of him and both before and behind him. He assumed that they were her three friends.  
  
"An amusing escort they must look," he thought to himself, trying very hard not to feel touched by the gesture.  
  
When they reached the classroom, it had yet to fill with his students, who were unfortunately going to be Slytherin fifth years, not that they were a bad lot as far as Slytherins went, but he imagined that many would be aware of what had happened in the corridor. Knowles removed Sissy's hand from his arm.  
  
"Your assistance is appreciated, Miss Howard," he said with a genial nod.  
  
"Of course, sir," she said neutrally.  
  
"Knowing your penchant for taking revenge on the behalf of others, I would suggest that you forget this incident ever happened," he told her a bit more sternly, just in case she should have an inkling of who had blown up his cane. Olivia tried to stifle a giggle and failed. "Apparently your friends are similarly aware. I trust they would encourage you to do as I have asked, especially Miss Scarrow as she seems to find my advice so very amusing," he added, pursing his lips. Olivia had a very recognizable giggle.  
  
"I shall keep that in mind, sir," said Sissy with a carefully arched eyebrow.  
  
"See that you do. Now run along to class," he instructed before turning his back and slowly retreating into his classroom.  
  
"He knows you pretty well," commented Sophia, who had also witnessed the retreat of Black. "Let it go," she advised somberly.  
  
"I'll try," said Sissy, feeling a flash of anger directed at callous and cruel Astrophel Black.  
  


* * *

A/N: Not very exciting, I know, but there are a few plot points in there that needed to be dealt with. The next xhapter will be more interesting, I assure you.  
  
  
HMT: Patience! Well, just a little bit anyway. And McGonagall? Hmm... Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I'm glad. Thanks for reviewing this chapter and _Yours Better_, but that story is only intended to be a one-shot. So I'm afraid your questions will have to go unanswered. Thanks again!  
  
mirkwoodmage: Thank you!  
  
  



	27. A late night encounter

Chapter Twenty-seven  
  
A late night encounter  
  
  
  
Martin awoke with a start during the middle of the night. It was near the end of November, and a sudden draft and a strange sound reminiscent of the flapping of leathery wings had jolted him from sleep. He glanced toward the window to find it open. At first nothing appeared to be wrong, except that the window was not closed as it should have been on such a very cold night. Then Martin saw it: a dark, forbidding silhouette in front of the window, black against the starry night sky. He shivered beneath his covers and blinked hard, desperately hoping that he was imagining things, that there wasn't really anything there. He could hear the other boys stirring as well, awakened just as he had been by the cold air and the noise, which were all too real.  
  
"What bleeding idiot opened the window?" asked Middleton in a sleepy, but rather irritated voice.  
  
There was a low chuckle from the shadowy figure that sent Martin groping for his wand. There could be no doubt about it now; it was anything but imagined! The dark shape moved forward a bit, slowly and silently. Martin's heart hammered in his chest as he watched it. He thought he could see red eyes shining in the darkness as it looked from side to side, from Prentice to Middleton, and then at the rest of them, observing them and sizing them up, until its eyes rested on Martin.  
  
"My, my what an interesting group of children," said a low, amused voice with a slight accent.  
  
Martin slipped out of bed and raised his wand. He wanted a good look at whatever had invaded the sanctuary of Ravenclaw Tower.  
  
"_Lumos_!" he spoke in a timorous voice, lighting the room with a soft glow from the tip of his wand.  
  
All of the boys gasped and scrambled from their beds as they saw a pale man with red lips and a long black cloak that hung past his knees, blending in with his dark robes as he stood in front of the window. Even the least studious of them realized that this was a vampire. And it was not Andrea Zabini.  
  
This was a somewhat older man. That is to say, a man who had been bitten and changed when he was perhaps in his sixties or seventies, although age hardly mattered to the undead. He was rather tall and broad at the shoulders. As a mortal, he had probably been quite good-looking, but there was something inherently cruel about his angular face.  
  
Most of the boys managed to grab their wands as they skittered back toward Martin, who had also begun to move slowly and carefully away from the vampire.  
  
"Six? What a nice number," he said, drawing his own wand with a slight flourish. "My hunger is very strong, but I will only be taking one of you this night," said the vampire conversationally. He bared his teeth for them, showing them his deadly fangs, but his eyes never left Martin, who was in the forefront of the group of first years.  
  
"You would find us unwilling," said Martin with a slight squeak in his voice. He was terrified of vampires, especially this one. Instinct told him that this was the same vampire that had attacked him earlier in the term.  
  
The vampire laughed and took a graceful step forward.  
  
"That accounts for half the fun," he told Martin. "And I always _try_ to have a bit of fun with my intended prey."  
  
Martin was not as well-versed as Sissy in offensive nor defensive spells, and at that moment he was frightened and having a very difficult time thinking properly. He swallowed hard and wracked his brain as the vampire tapped his wand against his palm, gliding forward another pace. The boys were nearly pinned against the far wall with the vampire between them and the door that led to the common room.  
  
"What would Sissy do?" he asked himself in a panic.  
  
According to his textbook, vampires and other undead creatures hated fire.   
  
"Thank Merlin for simple spells," he thought before yelling out a spell at the top of his lungs: "_Incendio_!"  
  
The vampire reeled in surprise as his robes caught fire. He tried to extinguish them by frantically patting his robes, but that was having little effect.  
  
"_Incendio_!" spoke Julian Woodward from over Martin's shoulder, taking his cue from Martin's actions.  
  
The vampire shrieked as more flames spouted from his clothing. Then he raised his wand and began hastily casting extinguishing spells on himself.  
  
The other boys, heartened by Martin and Julian's performance, began calling out spells that they knew as most of them had never used Incendio in their lives. It was commonly a spell for lighting a fire in the hearth and several of the boys came from homes with house elves and were not versed in nor even aware of domestic spells. Martin had seen Sissy use it to light a fire in the hearth late one night. His mum had also used it at home when she had not wished to trouble the elves for something so simple that she could easily do for herself.  
  
The vampire hissed at them, Martin especially, and said, "I will return for you! Sleep lightly, you little fool!" Then he changed into a bat and flew out the window and into the night.  
  
Martin was trembling all over when the vampire disappeared. His hand would not unclenched from his wand, which remained at ready. Had he noticed, he would have seen a similar response from all of the boys, except Prentice, who was hiding behind Middleton and gibbering very quietly about how he didn't want to die.  
  
"A prefect ... we need a prefect," stammered Martin mostly to himself.  
  
"Right, right," agreed Woodward, nodding his head. His teeth were chattering, which made him sound rather strange.  
  
"I'm not going out there!" said Halliday in a panicky voice.  
  
"I think I'm going to be sick!" moaned Middleton, chuckling his middle with his free hand. He had lost most of his color.  
  
Martin steeled himself and turned to face them.  
  
"Two of us ought to go at least," he decided, looking from boy to boy until his eyes fell on Julian.  
  
"I'll go with you," said Woodward, though his teeth continued to chatter.  
  
"Maybe if we shouted ..." said Wainwright in a squeaky voice.  
  
"We've been shouting," Martin reminded him.   
  
He nodded toward the door and Woodward tried to look resolute. He looked as though he had swallowed a goldfish. A very cold goldfish.  
  
"Let's go," said Woodward.  
  
  
The common room was dimly lit, and though they were not aware of the time, it was nearly two o'clock in the morning on a Friday. Each shadow seemed to reach out, ready to pounce upon them as they walked down the stairs from their dormitory. Martin could hear his heart pounding thunderously in his ears as they halted.  
  
"Who?" asked Woodward.  
  
Martin knew more about the prefects than any other boy in his year, thanks to the girls and their habit of eavesdropping. Which one would be most willing to help them and take them seriously? Ambrose? Certainly not! Moss and Denham were in girls' dormitories. Bode? He was so much older and more than a little intimidating, not to mention dreary. That left only Michael Hayhurst that he knew anything about. He had seen the vampire too. He would understand.  
  
"Hayhurst," answered Martin, walking toward the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory.  
  
He walked up the stairs, leaving Woodward at the bottom to keep watch, and rapped loudly on the door. Then he waited, rehearsing what he was going to say to the older and most likely irate student who would answer the door. He didn't have long to do so. Luckily the student who appeared was Hayhurst himself.  
  
"What in the blue blazes?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
"Vampire ..." stammered Martin as all of the thoughts rushed out of his head.  
  
Hayhurst's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he asked Martin.  
  
"It came in through the window ..." said Martin, nodding vigorously. "Please, we're afraid it's going to come back."  
  
"I'll rouse the prefects. Get your mates to come down to the common room. Someone had better wake Flitwick," he said, snapping into action.  
  
"All right," said Martin.  
  
"Hurry!" said Hayhurst before running to get his wand and throw on a dressing gown.  
  
Martin nodded and dashed down the stairs to where Woodward was waiting anxiously. His teeth had stopped chattering, but he still looked afraid.  
  
"Well?" asked Woodward.  
  
"We're to bring the others down to the common room. Hayhurst is going to get the rest of the prefects out of bed," said Martin quickly, dashing back to their dormitory.  
  
  
The other boys were still waiting nervously between the window and the door. They all looked as though they were considering making a break for it as the curtains flapped eerily in the breeze. Prentice had stopped gibbering, but Middleton still looked a touch peaky.  
  
"Out," said Martin, gesturing toward the door with his wand. "Now," he added as they didn't budge.  
  
"Is it safe?" asked Halliday.  
  
"Safer than in here," Woodward replied, doing what he could to help.  
  
That sent them scrambling easily enough.  
  
Hayhurst and Bode were yelling for the female prefects when Martin, Woodward, and the others entered the common room. Ambrose was no where in sight. Martin surmised that he had either refused to heed Hayhurst or had gone for their head of house. Dormitory doors were opening up all around as students were roused from slumber by the shouts of the prefects.  
  
Martin turned instinctively toward the stairs to the second year dormitory. He could see Corinna and Sissy peering out of the door. His eyes met those of Corinna, and he mouthed the word 'vampire'. If he had not been cold, shaking, and still a bit scared, he might have found the way her sleepy blue eyes widened quite funny. He watched her whisper something to Sissy, and they both ducked back into the room, closing the door behind them.  
  
"We should wake everyone up," said Hayhurst to Bode and Ernestina Blythe, the seventh year prefects.  
  
"Who saw it?" asked Bode skeptically.  
  
"Dumbledore," said Hayhurst, pointing Martin, who was obviously not invited into their conversation.  
  
"I agree," said Bode, turning to his counterpart, a parsimonious brunette, who appeared to be rather angry.  
  
"And if this turns out to be a prank?" she asked shrilly. Bode winced in a covert manner.  
  
"They look terrified," observed Moss, the other prefect for the sixth year, who was standing just behind Blythe.  
  
Blythe made an indistinct sound and crossed her arms.  
  
"Everyone's probably awake now anyhow," said Hayhurst, glancing toward the stairs to the dormitories. They were lined with anxious students.  
  
"Everyone down here!" barked Broderick Bode, conceding Hayhurst's obviously valid point.  
  
"Martin, did you really see _it_ again?" asked a soft voice in his ear.  
  
He understandably startled at this before turning to find Corinna and the others there. She was in a dressing gown over her pajamas and looked rather pale. The other girls were dressed in a similar fashion. Olivia was nervously chewing her lower lip. Sophia was fidgeting. Only Sissy looked relatively calm and unbothered, but if any had noticed, she was holding her wand in her sleeve.  
  
"Yes," he replied solemnly.  
  
"Did it hurt anyone?" asked Sophia, reaching out and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. He was still trembling just a bit, and she couldn't help but notice. If the other boys of his year had not been about, she might have hugged him. He seemed to need some form of encouragement.  
  
"No, we woke up and fended it off," said Martin, glancing at his nearby year mates who were watching as Bode and Moss gathered everyone together in the common room.  
  
"With what spells?" asked Sissy with interest.  
  
"Incendio and some hexes," Martin replied.  
  
"Good thinking," she nodded. There was an admiring look in her eyes that Martin didn't miss. It made him feel much better. "I hope you singed it but good," she added with unusual fervor.  
  
"I had some help," said Martin, nodding toward Woodward, who had collapsed in a comfortable chair. "I got a good look at it too," he said with a slight smile.  
  
"Really?" asked Olivia.   
  
She had not actually seen the vampire since their first night at Hogwarts that term. Sophia had not either, though their friends had recounted their experiences with it in some detail.  
  
"All of us did. I reckon it thought we were easy pickings, showing itself like that," said Martin. He felt a twinge of pride in their accomplishments. Six first years, five if one doesn't count cowering Prentice, had defended themselves from a hungry vampire.  
  
"You taught it a lesson," said Sissy.  
  
The other girls would have congratulated Martin too, but just then the portrait hole opened to admit Ignatius Ambrose, who was wearing what appeared to be lavender pajamas, and a rather flustered Professor Flitwick. The smaller man was wearing a dressing gown and fuzzy blue slippers with the house crest on them.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a loud, but squeaky voice.  
  
"The Aerie was infiltrated by a vampire, sir," answered Bode, who was in charge, more or less.  
  
"Has anyone been hurt?" he asked anxiously, striding toward the older prefect.  
  
"No, sir, not as we can tell. It got into the first years' dormitory," he explained, nodding toward the cluster of younger students. "I'm still not certain what exactly happened myself," said Bode with a dour sort of expression.  
  
Flitwick whirled around and walked to where the first year boys were gathered. Martin gave the girls an apologetic shrug and moved to join them.  
  
"Who saw the vampire?" asked their head of house. They all raised their hands to indicate that they had. "I see ..." said Flitwick, looking at them one by one. His gaze lingered on Martin. "Mister Dumbledore," he said to get Martin's attention. The young wizard had been looking at the floor, but his head snapped up when Flitwick said his name.  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"Did you recognize the vampire?" the professor questioned.  
  
"No, sir, not really," Martin replied.  
  
"It wasn't Zabini, professor," interjected Middleton hastily. Martin remembered that he had a step-brother or something who knew the Slytherin prefect. It was rather decent of Middleton to stick up for the student-vampire.  
  
"Thank you," nodded Flitwick.  
  
"What's to be done?" asked Woodward, hunching forward in his chair. All eyes were on the little man in the fuzzy slippers.  
  
"I will alert the headmaster, and if he deems it necessary, we will all remain in the common room tonight," answered Professor Flitwick calmly. Then he turned to the prefects, who were conversing quietly, and said, "Bode, you will come with me to the headmaster's office. The rest of you will remain here with wands drawn."  
  
Then he left with Broderick at his heels.  
  
  
All of Ravenclaw house, less one prefect, were standing around the common room, which meant that as soon as the portrait hole closed again, the room was filled with the noise of a large number of young witches and wizards all talking at once. This made Sissy winced in pain and irritation at the noise as she grabbed Martin and Corinna and began dragging them toward a secluded corner, hoping that Sophia and Olivia would have the good sense to follow them.  
  
The group was hard pressed to find enough seats as the common room was very crowded. In the end they chose to sit on the stone floor, which was neither particularly warm nor comfortable. But at least the corner of the room was reasonably private and as quiet as could be expected.  
  
"We're going to be here the rest of the night, and then we're going to classes in the morning," said Sissy flatly, leaning back again the wall. It was just as cold and hard as the floor.  
  
"Technically, I think it's already morning," said Sophia.  
  
Sissy scowled at her and pulled her dressing gown closer around her shoulders.  
  
"Then we'll be here until it's daylight," corrected Sissy.  
  
"Better than going back to the dormitory," said Martin quietly, drawing his knees up and shuddering.  
  
"It must have been awful," said Olivia, giving him a comforting prod in the ribs.  
  
Martin winced, internally, and said, "It was better than the last time, at least from my end of it. I hate that bloody thing. I never want it to come near me again."  
  
"I'm surprised I didn't know about this," said Corinna, perhaps in a slightly guilty tone.  
  
"You're not omniscient," said Martin with a wave of his hand.  
  
"Right," Sophia agreed. "The important thing is that you are safe, and everyone else too." she added.  
  
Martin blushed a little as the other three nodded in agreement. He felt warmer and maybe even a bit more secure knowing that they cared about him like that. Corinna tousled his already messy hair and smiled warmly at him.  
  
"Thanks," he said quietly.  
  
  
Nearly half an hour had passed when Flitwick returned with Professor Knowles, who had a new cane that was specially warded against harm and mischief, as Astrophel Black had discovered two weeks earlier. Black had recovered from the resulting boils after only three days, but Slytherin house was still suffering from the loss of points. Sissy smiled a secretive, satisfied smile every time she thought about that. Ravenclaw was no longer in last place, and Black was no longer suffering from undeserved popularity, even within his own house.  
  
"All of the other students have been evacuated to their common rooms for the remainder of the night," Flitwick informed them as all conversations stopped. "Professor Knowles and I will be guarding our common room while all of you attempt to get some sleep. Classes before noon have been canceled for tomorrow," he added.  
  
"And the vampire, sir?" asked an older student.  
  
"It appears to have left the castle," said Flitwick. "Rest assured that you are safe here as Professor Knowles and I are quite capable of driving it away."  
  
A substantial number of students exchanged glances at that, but as a bunch of first years had succeeded in doing so, they felt rather certain that Flitwick was able to do so as well. Many of them did not place much stock in Knowles' abilities.  
  
"Quite capable," repeated Knowles with an inscrutable expression.   
  
It was the same serious one he wore in class. Sissy knew it well and noticed his knuckles whitening around the his cane.  
  
  
A few minutes later the floor of the common room was covered with Ravenclaw-blue sleeping bags and tidy white pillows that Flitwick had conjured. The spacious, and still a bit chilly, room had been divided into girls' and boys' halves, much to the displeasure of five students in particular. Of course, Sissy merely shoved Martin rather forcefully, even for a girl as tall as she was, into a quiet recess Professor Flitwick had not noticed on the witches-only side of the room while Corinna and Olivia made off with an extra sleeping bag for him. Martin thought it best not to complain.  
  
"So much trouble, so much trouble ..." Sophia murmured to herself as they arranged the sleeping bags.  
  
Martin soon found himself tucked rather comfortably in the middle of the group between Sissy and Olivia, who, in his opinion, looked rather odd with her hair down. He found the situation to be quite nice with them all scrunched together like that. It was very cozy and warm, but more than, he was beginning to feel safe again with the girls gathered around him.  
  
"This is a bit like camping," remarked Corinna with a yawn.  
  
"Camping? You mean out of doors?" asked Sissy, wrinkling her nose.  
  
"Well, in a tent," said Corinna. "I went with my mum and her school friends when I was little," she added.  
  
"Muggles," laughed Olivia, not unkindly.  
  
"I would like to sleep," said Sophia as the common room lights dimmed further.  
  
The last thing Sissy noticed before the lights dimmed almost completely was Professor Knowles sitting in a comfortable chair across the room. He was smiling a bit cryptically and facing their direction.  
  
"Good night," said Sissy to her friends.  
  


* * *

A/N: Good thing Ravenclaws are light-sleepers, eh?  
  
  
silversea: He works for the Department of Mysteries. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HMT: Yes, I suppose it was. Thanks for the review!  
  
mirkwoodmage: Thank you! I'll try.  
  
  



	28. Girls and garlic

Chapter Twenty-eight  
  
Girls and garlic  
  
  
  
"Martin Bedivere Achilles Dumbledore!" called the surprised, and perhaps slightly annoyed, voice that awakened Martin the next morning.  
  
Martin's eyes snapped open almost against his will. It felt too early to be awakened so suddenly, but with that rude awakening, he was aware of several things, and all at once too. There was something heavy resting on his left shoulder. Another mysterious something was draped across his stomach, seemingly from right to left. And, he realized, his father had just yelled at him using his full name, even the heinous middle name his mother had insisted upon: Achilles. Two more realizations hit him. Sissy had her head resting on his shoulder, and Olivia's arm was draped over him. They were quickly removed.  
  
"Father?" he stammered, sitting up very quickly and blinking at the sunlight that was streaming in through one of the far windows.  
  
Sissy and Olivia, probably sensing that the professor was not entirely pleased this morning, edged as far away from Martin as they could. Sissy had turned the color of a ripe tomato. Olivia looked a bit perplexed and confused, which was certainly not the norm for her in the morning.  
  
"Father? What are you doing here?" asked Martin stupidly. The head of Gryffindor house most certainly wasn't allowed in the Aerie! Right?  
  
"Never mind that. Please get up, Martin," said Professor Dumbledore, looking over his spectacles at his son, who surrounded by four young witches, and was quite the spectacle himself. "I've been looking for you for nearly twenty minutes," he added with a frown that Martin knew all too well. It was the same one his father used when he was late for dinner in the summer.  
  
"Of course," he stammered, clambering none too gracefully from the sleeping bag.  
  
Martin noticed with some chagrin that other students, just getting up themselves, were staring at him, many of them with curious or else mirthful expressions, as he left the secluded nook. A few of the older girls were laughing or giggling behind their hands.  
  
"What's the matter?" asked Martin as his father took him by the arm and pulled him toward the portrait hole.  
  
"I know your head of house segregated the common room. What ever were you doing on the wrong side of the room with those girls?" asked Dumbledore with a slightly bewildered and perturbed expression as they left the common room.  
  
"Girls? Plural? You?" chortled _Gentleman in his Study_ loudly after them as they started down the stairs.  
  
"Sleeping!" answered Martin, who was of course still in his rumpled nightclothes. "I don't understand," he protested, trying to ignore the burning cold of the steps beneath his bare feet. "What's going on, Father?" he asked.  
  
Dumbledore frowned at the confused look on his son's face and paused, well out of earshot of _Gentleman in his Study_, which was a notorious gossip-monger.  
  
"You must have realized what sort of awkward questions are raised when a young man spends the night with a group of young women," said the aging professor. Somewhere up the stairs he could still hear the portrait figure chortling.  
  
Martin looked at his father blankly. Then he blushed. "I know I wasn't supposed to be on their side of the room, but they're my friends and they wanted me there with them after what had happened. I didn't want to tell them no and have to spend the rest of the night by myself," he answered.  
  
Dumbledore thought this over for a moment, trying to see the situation from the perspective of his adolescent son. It seemed rather innocent when he looked at it like that.  
  
"Perhaps I've acted hastily," he said, putting a hand on Martin's shoulder, "but please consider your future conduct more carefully in regards to sleeping with girls."  
  
Martin looked at him blankly again, but felt a bit relieved.   
  
"All right ..." he replied with a nod.  
  
"I was supposed to fetch you for the headmaster, and I wanted to be sure you were all right. I believe we can spare a few moments if you want to get dressed first," he told Martin.  
  
"I'd rather if I'm going to see Professor Dippet," answered Martin. His heart was pounding for a different reason now. Why ever did the headmaster want to see him? It couldn't be for anything good.  
  
"Hurry then. We mustn't keep him waiting as he is very busy after last night's excitement," his father told him before ushering him on his way.  
  
_Gentleman in his Study_ was still laughing to himself when Martin was readmitted to the Aerie.  
  
  
Martin joined his father again at the bottom of the tower and followed quickly after him in the direction of the headmaster's office.  
  
"You must have had quite a night, facing the vampire again," Dumbledore commented as he slowed his pace so that Martin could keep up.  
  
"At least I wasn't alone this time," he shrugged. "The other boys did their part or else I think it would have had us."  
  
Dumbledore put arm around Martin's shoulders as they walked. The younger wizard smiled up at him.  
  
"You did very well. I'm proud of you, and I'm glad you're all right," his father told him.  
  
"Thank you," said Martin.  
  
"Professor Dippet wishes to ask you some questions about the incident," Dumbledore informed him.  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"Because of your involvement earlier this term and perhaps because you are my son," replied the professor coolly. The slight twinkle in his eyes did not go unnoticed.  
  
"I don't understand. Why does it matter that I'm your son?" asked Martin.  
  
"The headmaster is a very shrewd man and a good judge of character. We've got on well over the years. I suppose he's hoping that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," said Dumbledore.  
  
"But it fell into another house," Martin muttered to himself.  
  
"Armando's own, actually," his father chuckled.  
  
  
When they arrived, they found Professor Dippet at his desk with quill in hand, scratching out a reply to a letter while an anxious owl eyed him from the corner of his desk. To Martin he seemed very tired. His creased brow made him appear even older and more than a bit unhappy as well.  
  
"Just a moment," he said without looking up. If he knew who had entered his office and approached his desk, he gave no sign of it. "Please have a seat," he added absent-mindedly.  
  
The two Dumbledores did so in silence. Martin looked at his father questioningly, but the professor only motioned for him to sit still and be quiet.  
  
"I'm requesting an Auror from the Ministry," said Dippet as he looked up and began folding his letter.  
  
"By name?" asked Dumbledore, shifting ever-so-slightly in his seat.  
  
"I know your wife's in the field, Albus, so I've asked for someone else. Anyone else really," said Armando with a smile. "Can you imagine working with her?' he asked as he gave the parchment to owl, which flew away immediately.  
  
"Not as an Auror," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Now, Albus, you know she's good at what she does," chuckled Armando, looking younger and less tired as he laughed.  
  
"Oh, yes, she's very good, but life at Hogwarts isn't exactly compatible with her techniques," said Albus with a more subtle look of amusement as he imagined his wife sweeping through the halls with her wand raised and that special Aurorly gleam in her dark eyes.  
  
"She might make a fine professor someday," said Dippet, growing more somber again.  
  
"I sent her the letter. She never replied," said Dumbledore, glancing at Martin, who was listening with interest. "I've brought my son," he said.  
  
"I can see that," said Dippet with a patient smile. He leaned forward over his desk. "Hello, Mister Dumbledore, I've heard that you had another brush with our visitor," he said.  
  
"Yes, sir," answered Martin.  
  
"I want to send a description of the vampire to the Ministry. They have a registry there, so they might be able to tell us who he is, or rather, was. Can you describe him for me?" asked the headmaster.  
  
"Of course. We all got a very good look at him," said Martin before describing the vampire to him.  
  
Armando Dippet nodded very thoughtfully when Martin had finished his description. The young wizard certainly seemed to have kept his head during the encounter, which was quite commendable. Thinking back to his own school days, he could only imagine the confusion and panic that a vampire in the dormitories, an uninvited one no less, would have caused. The first year Ravenclaws had done well.  
  
But Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, appeared to be brooding, and Martin longed to ask him what he was thinking about.  
  
"Very good, Mister Dumbledore. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw house for your helpful observations. I'm sure your head of house will award points to the other young wizards for their part as well," said Dippet.  
  
"Thank you, sir," said Martin. "May I ask a question?"  
  
"Of course," nodded Dippet.  
  
"What'll be done about keeping it out, professor? I mean, I thought the common room, and the dormitories too, were safe from being invaded like this," he said.  
  
"The windows will be warded. In fact, I imagine Professor Flitwick is doing the right now as are the other heads of houses," said Dippet.  
  
Martin glanced at his father.  
  
"Already done," said Dumbledore with a smile.   
  
He knew that Filius had not slept since the invader was detected. He had been too busy securing the tower. Dumbledore himself had been up much of the night guarding the common room where his students were sleeping, but as soon as they sun began to rise, he went about putting up sufficiently strong wards on all of the dormitory windows, leaving capable Kettleburn to watch over the still sleeping students.  
  
"Then we will be safe?" asked Martin hesitantly.  
  
"Yes," Dippet nodded with a smile. Father and son were very much alike. "And we will have an Auror stationed here within the week if my request means anything," he added, glancing at his colleague.  
  
"I'm sure it does," said the other professor quickly.  
  
"Who knows?" sighed Dippet. "You may go now. I'm sure you'll be wanting breakfast," he said to Martin, dismissing him so that he could discuss things further with his deputy.  
  
On his way out he heard the headmaster say, "I hate it that you'll be inheriting this problem, Albus."  
  
"Please, Armando, all of this will pass and everything will be just fine in the end," said Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Time will tell, I suppose."  
  
  
The girls had been uncertain as to what to do when Martin had been dragged away rather abruptly by his father. In the end they had returned to their dormitory and prepared to face the day. As it was already nearly half past nine, they hurried to dress and hoped that breakfast would still be served. They all rather suspected that it would be, and they were starving after the early morning excitement.  
  
"You don't think Professor Dumbledore is angry with us too?" asked Corinna as she tried unsuccessfully to tame her wild, unruly hair.  
  
"He probably thought something scandalous was going on," said Sophia grimly as Olivia helped her with her braids, which she gave a sharp tug after Sophia had made that comment. "Ouch! Stop it!" she said, glaring at Olivia's reflection in the mirror.  
  
"Don't say things like that! Just because Martin was on the wrong side of the room doesn't mean that the professor was _angry_ or that it was _scandalous_," she protested.  
  
"I hardly think he was pleased," said Sissy, who was lightening her hair with her wand. It was beginning to turn a strawberry blond color at the roots, and she preferred to keep it a lighter shade.  
  
Corinna rolled her eyes as she watched Sissy, who had been doing this herself since she had started school.  
  
"Martin will probably explain everything," decided Corinna, who was still thinking she should have seen this coming, the vampire and everything else.  
  
"Of course," Olivia agreed quickly, "and he'll tell us so at breakfast." She added that to hurry the other girls along. She was famished and hoping to see Martin in the Great Hall.  
  
  
The other students were positively buzzing when they entered the hall, which was filling quickly with hungry and anxious young witches and wizards. They were all only naturally talking about the vampire. The quartet had got it out of their systems in September and October and saw no further need to discuss the topic among themselves in early November. They had nothing to add to such a discussion without Martin's input.  
  
And where was Martin? He wasn't at the Ravenclaw table. He was nowhere to be seen.   
  
Corinna frowned as they found seats, noticing that the staff at the high table, which was missing several members, were talking in low whispers among themselves. The heads of the four Hogwarts houses were all missing as was the headmaster. Professor Knowles was frowning deeply as he spoke with Professor Patrick Kettleburn. Professor Vector was leaning toward them to hear what the other two were saying. Surprisingly, Professor Mallaghan was also eating with his fellow faculty members. He seldom left his tower unless called upon to do so. The Muggle Studies professor was whispering something to him with a very nervous look on her face. At her elbow the Astronomy professor narrowed his eyes and shook his head.   
  
Corinna would have given a lot to know what all of them were talking about. Certainly about their early morning visitor. But the specifics were of great interest to her.  
  
The sound of someone taking a seat beside her startled Corinna from her rather gloomy thoughts. She was relieved to see it was Martin.  
  
"Where have you been?" she asked.  
  
"Headmaster's office," he said, digging into his breakfast with relish.  
  
The other girls had been doing much the same thing while Corinna had been preoccupied.  
  
"And?" asked Sissy impatiently. "You aren't in trouble, are you?"  
  
"No, actually I got fifteen points for being able to describe the vampire for Professor Dippet," he said with a lop-sided smile. "That ought to make a nice dent in Gryffindor's lead," he added. "Father was a bit displeased though," said Martin as an afterthought.  
  
"And it was all our fault," said Sophia, shaking her head.  
  
"I'm not in any trouble ... unless he writes mum or something," he said quickly, not wanting them to feel bad about what had happened.  
  
"Nice work with the points though," said Olivia with a grin.  
  
"Thanks," said Martin as he shoveled porridge into his mouth, "the headmaster was really generous."  
  
"Chew, swallow, then talk," instructed Sissy with a revolted look.  
  
"Sorry," he said after doing so. His eyes drifted to Corinna and he said, "I think she's right about the headmaster. He might be leaving ..."  
  
"No!" Olivia objected.  
  
"Are you certain?" asked Sophia with a slight frown.  
  
"Well, my father disagrees, but ... I got the definite impression that the headmaster doesn't think he'll be around long enough to handle the vampire situation."  
  
"I knew it," muttered Corinna, stabbing her omelet rather forcefully.  
  
"Well, maybe things will work out ..." said Olivia with a glum expression on her face.  
  
"The headmaster is sending for an Auror. Maybe they could catch the vampire, and everything would be all right," said Martin with a spark of hope.  
  
"Your mum, I hope?" questioned Sissy. "I'd like to meet her," she added with a slight smile.  
  
"No, she's in the field and all," shrugged Martin. He silently added, "My life would be absolute torture with _both_ my parents here." It gave him chills when he thought about it.  
  
  
Sophia felt lucky that they weren't going miss Friday afternoon potions with Professor Krohn as Potions remained her favorite class, despite the fact that the professor had grown more withdrawn and snappish since the beginning of the school year. Not many students, especially the younger ones, realized how difficult the term had been for him. His father had died. He had a student who was now a vampire. And the threat of danger still lingered. If he took out his anxiety on his students, Sophia could understand that. Or she could at least try.  
  
Sissy and Olivia were of a different mind, however, as was Martin who had early morning Potions' instruction twice a week. The two girls found Krohn to be unbearable with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. He never gave anyone house points, except perhaps his own students and even that had become rather rare. He seldom gave anyone high marks, deserving or not. This rankled a bit with the Ravenclaws. Even Sophia was having difficulty, but she never complained. She just tried to understand and exerted extra effort.  
  
That afternoon Sophia could tell that Krohn was even more temperamental than she had come to expect.  
  
"Today I am going to depart from the lesson plan to teach you something that all of you should know: how to make a tincture of garlic," announced Krohn.  
  
There were loud groans from around the classroom, which contained Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. That was a mistake, of course.  
  
"Perhaps none of you realize that by ingesting ten drops daily of such a tincture, you make yourselves less appetizing to vampires. It may not repel them entirely, but it makes Ogg's chickens look more palatable than you would seem. It could save your lives," he said in a low, dangerous voice that approached a hiss. "It might not be _proper_ potion-making, but the making of tinctures has its uses," he added, grasping the edges of his desk. His hazel eyes glinted with menace as he glared at them.  
  
"Probably makes you smell nasty too," said one of the Ravenclaw boys under his breath. It was just loud enough for Sophia, and Professor Krohn, to hear.  
  
"Ten points from Ravenclaw!" he spat. "If you don't care for the added protection, you can write sixteen inches for me on technique."  
  
The boy, one of the 'brutes' that the girls didn't like very much, said nothing and looked down at his desk. Chang and the others were glaring at him for his stupidity and lack of discretion.  
  
"All of you think this is some sort of joke, do you not? Oh, a vampire in the castle, how entertaining, how exciting. Maybe it will get us out of class for a day. Maybe we'll get to see it turn into a bat," he said in a mocking tone. His knuckles were white as he gripped the desk. A few jars on the shelves behind him rattled.  
  
The students all looked very uncomfortable, very disconcerted by the outburst. The potions' master had a temper, and no mistake, but much of the time he was indifferent, calmly uncaring, and impassive. His rare moments of ire were always enormous surprises to those upon which they were visited. This occasion was no exception.  
  
"Maybe you just think that such simplistic potions' work is beneath you. I can assure you that most of you are _unfit_ for anything more complex," he said, drawing a deep breath. He slowly released his death grip on the desk and stood up straight again. "I expect you to follow the instructions I have on the board," said Krohn, gesturing behind him, "to the very letter ... in absolute silence. When you are done, I will examine your tinctures and age them for you. Then you will ingest a dose."  
  
  
The class did precisely as Professor Krohn instructed. He watched them the entire time from his desk with a menacing look in his eyes. The procedure was relatively simple, especially for Sophia, who was well-versed even in such rudimentary potion-making skills. When she presented the finished product to Krohn, she was the first to do so as the rest of the class was too nervous to approach him.  
  
"Adequate," he muttered as he waved his wand over the mixture. The pungent aroma of it grew even stronger. "Now, take this and drink," he commanded, shoving a dropper across the desk at her.  
  
The taste was overwhelming. The nausea was nearly so, but Sophia managed to stomach it, pulling only a slight face and voicing no complaint. She had been given potions far more disgusting to drink before, and this was for a good purpose. She wished in vain that Martin would also be having potions' before the weekend. If any of them could use some extra protection, it would be him. He had the worst luck by far.  
  
Finishing the assignment meant that Sophia could spend the rest of the class reading a chapter of her potions' text, although she had read the entirety of it previously, she imagined that their next lesson would be especially difficult to make up for the unexpected lesson in garlic tinctures they had just received. But she found it difficult to concentrate as she kept glancing up at Krohn who was watching the other students or examining their finished concoctions. His low voice didn't carry to the back of the classroom where she sat with her friends, but she could tell that he was still seething. By the time the class period was over she had made up her mind to do something.  
  
"I'll meet in you in the library," she told her friends as they gathered their belongings.  
  
Olivia looked slightly green as the garlic had not agreed with her. The others were wearing sour facial expression that Sophia imagined were also at least partially the result of the tinctures.  
  
They did not object, but Sissy gave her a mildly contemptuous look, as though to say, "I don't know what you hope to accomplish."  
  
Sophia ignored her and waited until the other students cleared out of the room.  
  
Krohn had just pulled a metallic clasp from his hair when she chose to make her continuing presence known.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
He looked up sharply and asked, "Are you _trying_ to losing more points for Ravenclaw house, Miss Colville?"   
  
There was a tired and annoyed edge to his voice. For an instant he even seemed to have a discernible accent.  
  
"No, sir, I ... I only wanted to speak with you," she said, faltering and almost losing her nerve. "I wanted you to know that some of us do take the danger that we're all in seriously," she said.  
  
Krohn sighed and rubbed his forehead before reluctantly beckoning her forward with a wave of his hand. Some of the anger and annoyance in his expression faded as Sophia hesitantly approached his desk.  
  
"I know that you, and possibly your friends, are more ... aware of the situation than your peers. Your perspectives are unique. You saw what it was capable of that night," he said slowly.  
  
Sophia knew that he meant the night when Andrea Zabini was bitten and Martin was attacked.  
  
"But your classmates ... my father would have called them fools and children. And perhaps they still _are _just children. They don't understand, not even the ones who are afraid. They don't understand that their lives are in jeopardy. The young, you see, have this odd notion that they are untouchable, immortal, invincible ... and I don't think that it has sunk in yet that they are none of these things. Do you understand what I mean, Miss Colville?" asked Krohn, looking into her troubled eyes with a steady and penetrating gaze.  
  
"I think so, professor," she answered.  
  
"You think I am harsh and unfair too, no doubt," he said with a bitter smile, "and you might be correct, Miss Colville. And perhaps I am foolish as well. I could have prepared these tinctures myself, forced the students in my own house to drink them daily until the vampire is caught, and to hell with the rest of you."  
  
"Why didn't you?" asked Sophia.  
  
He laughed softly and said, "Because I am foolish enough to be concerned with the whole lot of you, even the stupid Gryffindors and silly Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who can't even seem to whisper properly. This concern is a sure sign that I have been here at this school for too long."  
  
"When they're older, they will appreciate ..." Sophia began.  
  
"Bah!" said Krohn with a dismissive gesture. "I care not."  
  
"Of course, sir," she said quietly, "but some of us are appreciative of what you're trying to do." Sophia didn't say that she was the only one who hadn't particularly minded drinking the extremely nasty garlic potion.  
  
"Then show your appreciation by staying alive. Everything else is immaterial and meaningless," he told her. "And tell your friends to do the same, including young Dumbledore. God knows his father won't be giving him that advice. Albus is probably coaching him to be a vampire hunter," snorted Krohn.  
  
"I hardly think that Professor Dumbledore would knowingly endanger ..." Sophia began in a shocked tone of voice.  
  
"You are a Ravenclaw, Miss Colville. Take a lesson from my esteemed colleague Professor Knowles and then decide what a Gryffindor would or would not do," he said in a very firm tone of voice. But in his eyes there was a certain sadness and muted anger.  
  
Sophia faltered slightly and said, "Then I suppose it will be up to Martin's friends to look out for him."  
  
"So long as you don't risk your own life in the process that is a good plan," said the professor, sweeping his hair away from his face.  
  
"Spoken like a true Slytherin," she said before she could stop herself. She blushed slightly at her own impertinence and waited for a backlash that never came.  
  
"I thank you," said Krohn with pursed lips and a slight nod, "but I am a snake from a different den. If my current station suits me, then that is neither here nor there."  
  
Sophia narrowed her eyes before remembering that he had not been educated at Hogwarts. Sometimes, however, he fit the Slytherin mold too well.  
  
"As you say, sir," she replied in measured tones.  
  
"I trust you have said all that you wish to say, Miss Colville."  
  
"I believe so," she nodded.  
  
"Then take care and good day to you," he said, taking a pile of parchments from the corner of his desk and giving them his full attention.  
  
Sophia departed without another word.  
  


* * *

A/N: I'm not sure if I got Dumbledore's reaction right, but picking odious middle names for Martin was fun.  
  
  
HMT: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I want to answer your questions, but I'm afraid that might spoil the rest of the story. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	29. Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-nine  
  
Nightmare  
  
  
  
Another week had passed in a flurry of classes, assignments, and added security precautions. Students were not allowed out of their common rooms and dormitories after six in the evening nor before seven in the morning without a prefect or in a group of fellow students smaller than four. Curfew was strictly observed. More than a few house points had been lost by Slytherin and Gryffindor for tardiness. Students were escorted en masse from supper in the evening by the prefects of their house. No one, Quidditch teams included, was allowed outside the castle after five o'clock, which meant that the Ravenclaw team had barely an hour to practice every day, although their captain was doing his best to reschedule.  
  
Professor Knowles had taught them lessons on vampires all week, though it was quite apparent that this was not a field in which he specialized. Most everyone agreed that it was better than nothing. Professor Krohn had doled out the foul tasting garlic potion to every single student at the beginning of class each day. He reminded them with some constancy that it only lasted twenty-four hours at most and that they were unprotected at times. He did so with less than expected harshness. Professor Mallaghan had several afternoon talks with Corinna, probing with cautious and kindly words to find out if she had had any premonitions or visions regarding the vampire. She had not.  
  
And help had yet to arrive from the Ministry by the end of the week. Olivia overheard Professor Flitwick tell Professor Binns that it was because the Aurors were all in the field, because there had been a rash of Dark Magic attacks in Wales. Binns told his younger colleague that this was rubbish.  
  
"They're setting Armando up to fail. They want to see him out of his job in disgrace. It isn't good enough that he resign. They must drag his good name through the muck and make him look like a fool first as well," said grim Professor Binns.  
  
Martin had taken his lunch with his father on Tuesday and had questioned the professor about the Auror who was supposed to be coming to safeguard the school and its students from further attack.  
  
"I've found an Auror on leave, thanks to your mum, and the headmaster and I have owled him. With any luck, he'll arrive later in the week," answered Dumbledore candidly.  
  
As Friday came and went with no sign of this Auror, Martin and the girls began to doubt that anyone would ever come to help them.  
  
"But aren't we all right on our own?" asked Olivia. "I mean, our professors are powerful witches and wizards. What do we really need an Auror for?"  
  
"They're professionals," said Sophia, frowning at her friend's cocky attitude.  
  
"Some of them probably even have experience with vampires," added Martin with a slight shiver. It was difficult for him to imagine anyone wanting a job like that, despite the fact that his own mother was an Auror.  
  
"Not unless they served some time on the continent. We get precious few vampires here," commented Sissy, whose attitude was more similar to that of Olivia.  
  
  
That same night Martin repeated a habit from his childhood. He had a nightmare ...  
  
  
_He was standing in the front hallway of his childhood home. It was dark and quiet, but not peaceful. There was a feeling of tension and dread in the house that he had never known to be there before. Then he heard the quiet squeak of the front door being opened. He turned and watched in horror as a group of men in dark cowled robes with strange, arcane symbols on them stepped inside with their wands drawn.   
  
Then he turned and glanced up the stairs that led to the upstairs of the house. His room and his parents' bedroom were up there. Martin gasped as he saw his mother standing on the stairs. She was younger than he ever remembered seeing her. Her dark hair hung loosely about her shoulders, cascading down her scarlet dressing gown. And she was holding a bundle in her arms, making soft hushing sounds. The bundle had fuzzy auburn hair.  
  
"It's me," Martin thought incredulously.  
  
The robed wizards, followers of Grindelwald, started into the house. A pair of them walked down the hallway that led to the kitchen, his father's study, and the rest of the house. Another pair made their way toward the stairs. The remaining two stood guard near the door.  
  
Martin expected them to spot his mother as she sidled silently down the stairs within arm's reach of the dark wizards. They gave no sign of seeing nor hearing her. Her face was pinched as she passed them by. She was angry, and perhaps a little afraid. Her small, dark eyes flashed as she watched them go into her son's nursery, and she held the infant closer.  
  
She followed those who had gone down the hall, passing so close to where Martin stood riveted to the spot, watching, that he could have reached out and touched her. He wanted to do so. He realized that he missed her a lot since coming to school, which made him wonder why he was home again and what was going on.  
  
"A dream," he thought idly. "I must be dreaming."  
  
He followed his mother as though drawn to do so. She was close behind the robed figures. He could tell by her expression that she was listening to them as they spoke in low tones. What they were saying seemed garbled. Then he realized they were speaking another language.  
  
They searched each room of the house with Martin's mother only a few steps behind them, always careful to stay well out of the way and quiet, though Martin suspected that they could not have heard her. She was being cautious nevertheless for his sake.  
  
Then Martin felt suddenly cold. The other two had returned from the upstairs of the house. He shuddered as one threw back his cowl. He knew that cruel and angular face. He recognized the broad-shouldered wizard to whom it belonged. Though he was still a mortal man, there was no disguising the fact that this was the vampire who had attacked him and had invaded the Aerie.  
  
"They aren't here, but we'll get them eventually. Leave no traces that we were ever here. Touch nothing," he commanded before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway._  
  
  
Martin awoke with a start and sat up in bed, fighting off the covers and gasping for air. The darkness was heavy around him. He felt stifled, trapped, and very confused by the dream, even as it faded and reality took its place.  
  
"Just a dream," he told himself, rubbing his face with both hands.  
  
The curtains that surrounded his bed, which had been closed because of the growing cold, and Wainwright's incessant snoring, suddenly opened. Martin startled again, scrambling away from the gray gap in the darkness.  
  
"All right?" asked a familiar voice. It was Julian Woodward.  
  
Martin smiled slightly in relief and said, "Of course. Just had a bad dream."  
  
"You shouted," said another voice from just outside the curtains: Middleton.  
  
He wasn't teasing Martin. He wasn't trying to make his life difficult or bully him. It was merely a statement of fact.   
  
Since the vampire incident the other boys had begun to look upon Martin with a grudging respect. They had even offered him a spot with them at dinner one night. He had politely declined, but they all remained civil just the same. The invasion of their dormitory had brought them together. That included Woodward who was slowly becoming less aloof.  
  
"Did I?" asked Martin sheepishly.  
  
"It's all right," said one of the other young wizards. "I suppose what's been happening would give anyone nightmares." It was little Prentice who was speaking.  
  
"Thanks. You should all go back to bed. There's Quidditch in the morning," he reminded them. The Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game was to be played that Saturday.  
  
"Good-night then," said Woodward, closing the curtains again.  
  
Martin could hear the sound of them all climbing back into their beds. He was no longer sleepy. He was thinking about his dream and still feeling stifled. Once he was sure his roommates were sleeping again, he climbed out of bed and crept down to the common room.  
  
  
Martin only naturally expected the common room to be empty as it was nearly one o'clock in the morning, but Corinna always had a way of surprising him. She was sitting on the couch in front of the fire, which was crackling pleasantly, and reading her Herbology book. She smiled and closed it when she saw Martin.  
  
"I knew you would be coming," she said in a slightly amused voice. There was a day-dreaming quality to it as well. Corinna gestured to the couch and said, "Have a seat. I imagine you will want to talk. I know you could use some company."  
  
He blinked, shook his head, and sat down heavily beside her.  
  
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he told her bluntly.  
  
"Good," she laughed softly.  
  
"I wasn't going to sneak out, you know," Martin commented, hunching forward and resting his chin on his hands as he stared into the fire.  
  
"I know that too," she said. "You had a nightmare and woke everyone in your dormitory. You came down here because ... well, I don't _know_ that, but I willing to wager it was because you wanted to think."  
  
"Right in one," he chuckled dryly. "So what are you doing here? You have an important match in the morning."  
  
"As if I could forget," Corinna sighed, rolling her eyes, "but I didn't want you to be alone."  
  
"Maybe I want to be alone."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Not really," he answered after a pause.  
  
"What was the nightmare about?" Corinna questioned.  
  
"The vampire ... sort of. I dreamed he came to my house with men in dark robes when I was very little ... during the war. I think he wanted to hurt my mum and me," Martin explained.  
  
"Rather scary," she remarked.  
  
"Yeah ..." he agreed, bowing his head and wrapping his arms around his middle. "I've dreamed about those men ... those Dark Wizards ever since I can remember. None of them ever had faces before. It was ... eerie ... dreaming about all my worst fears at the same time," Martin admitted to her. "Bet that sounds silly," he added, giving her a sideways glance.  
  
"Not really. I'd be having nightmares too in your position," she said, squeezing his shoulder.  
  
"The funny thing is, I know ... I _think_ that what happened in my dream might have really happened, that those people really came looking for us, but I shouldn't be able to remember it, right?" he asked.  
  
"Memory is a strange thing, Martin. I would discount it entirely. But then, dreams are like that too. Maybe you're trying to tell yourself something," said Corinna.  
  
"That the vampire knows my father or something of that sort? That it was once a Dark Wizard in league with Grindelwald?"  
  
"Perhaps," she said.  
  
"You don't know anything then?" Martin asked her hesitantly.  
  
"No," she replied, "that isn't the sort of thing I _can_ know. It's the past, not the future. I don't think I'm allowed to _know_ the past the same way I sometimes know what is to come ..."  
  
"Of course," he ventured, "it could have just been a dream and nothing more."  
  
"True," acknowledged Corinna, "but would you be this upset if you really believed that?"  
  
Martin turned and looked at her before answering, "Probably not."  
  
"I've read a bit about the war ..." said Corinna after a moment. "There are photographs of lots of the captured Dark Wizards. Maybe if you looked through them ..."  
  
"But if he's a vampire and on the loose, he would have avoided being captured somehow," said Martin, shaking his head.  
  
"You could ask your father," she suggested.  
  
"I ... I'd rather him not know that I still have dreams about the things that happened back then," he said with a frown. "I don't want him to know I'm afraid either," he added silently.  
  
"I don't know how to help you then," she said. "I could ask Professor Mallaghan about your dream, but ... that's not really his specialty," Corinna added as an afterthought.  
  
"Do you think he would be able to tell you what my dream meant or something like that?" asked Martin.  
  
"It's possible," she shrugged, "and unless tomorrow's game lasts a long time, I'll see him in the afternoon. I'll ask him for you."  
  
"Thanks," said Martin with a relieved smile.  
  
"Don't thank me yet," she said with a wry look, remembering the professor's talent with tea leaves, or rather the lack thereof. If he was the same way with dream interpretation ...  
  
"You should probably go back to bed, what with the match tomorrow and all," said Martin.  
  
"And you'll go back to bed in a few minutes, right?" she asked, although it sounded as though she already knew the answer.  
  
"Of course," he agreed with a quiet chuckle. The fright of the nightmare had worn off, and he no longer felt stifled.  
  
"Good-night then," said Corinna with a yawn as she left the couch.  
  
She frowned as she walked back to the stairs leading to her dormitory. Corinna was thinking something that she was afraid to share with Martin. She couldn't call it a premonition. It was more like an intuitive reaction to what he had shared with her. A gut feeling. And as much as she wanted to do so, she could not shake it.  
  
The door to her room was open, and someone was waiting for her, leaning against the jam and looking a bit cross.  
  
"What was that all about?" asked Sissy in a low voice.  
  
"Martin had a bad dream about the vampire. I thought he could use some company," answered Corinna.  
  
"Anything else?" she questioned, knowing the troubled look in Corinna's light blue eyes.  
  
"I think the vampire has come here for Martin. It wants him. It isn't just here to feed ... I think it's here for revenge," she said in hushed tones. This was the fearful thought that had come to her.  
  
"If that's true, then it won't stop coming back until it has either killed or changed him. Until it's done whatever it wants or someone destroys it," said Sissy in a toneless voice.  
  
  
The game against Hufflepuff was the longest played at Hogwarts in nearly five years, lasting almost until the sun had set, which had made the professors more than a little nervous. In the end something unexpected happened. The game was a tie. Ravenclaw had lost its Seeker within the first hour to a Bludger to the head hit by a very contrite Rose Midgen. After that, the game had been in the hands of the team's Chasers and its Keeper, all of whom performed admirably. The Hufflepuff Seeker, Cecil Lockhart, a third year who was a little dim, had played terribly, losing the Golden Snitch no less than twenty times, but he was all that the Badgers had. It was pure luck he caught it at all. The final score was one hundred and eighty for each team.   
  
The Ravenclaws had played very well without Manfred North, who had a concussion and spent two days in the hospital wing. The rest of the team, not to mention the Hufflepuffs, caught colds from the inclement weather. It had rained throughout the entire game. This was remedied with several doses of Pepper-up Potion from Madam Pomfrey after the match. Corinna still felt off color for a few days.  
  


* * *

A/N: The part in italics, in case this isn't obvious, was the nightmare.  
  
  
HeeroTomoe: Too long? Really? It was just under 5,000 words. Some of my favorite writers have chapters in the 15,000 to 35,000 word range. I thought a more mid-sized chapter would go over pretty well. There was just no place to cut it for one thing. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
(Un)Happy Reader!: I'm glad you're enjoying enjoying the fic. Thanks for the review!  
  
HMT: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I tried to make it funny without going overboard. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	30. An Auror arrives

Chapter Thirty  
  
An Auror arrives  
  
  
  
Sunday morning the girls and Martin all left the Aerie to have breakfast together since Corinna did not have morning practice that day. Ambrose had given them the day off to recuperate from the strenuous match played the day before. The team, Corinna included, had certainly needed it.  
  
Because of the length of the Quidditch match, Corinna had not visited Professor Mallaghan yet, but she intended to drop by his office early that afternoon, supposing that he wasn't busy. The elderly Divinations' professor never really seemed to be. She wasn't sure what he would make of Martin's dream, which he had not mentioned to Olivia and Sophia, meaning that only Sissy and she knew about it. She hoped Professor Mallaghan would tell her it was silly, but then ... there was that bad feeling again, telling her that it wasn't silly at all.  
  
As they passed through the Entrance Hall, the large and imposing doors of the school, which were closed almost all the time now, began to open. Martin glanced over his shoulder and paused as the girls walked ahead of him. Olivia and Corinna were still discussing the Quidditch game from the day before, oblivious to everything else in the world. Sophia and Sissy were trying not to feel left out of the conversation, which was very much the same thing Martin had been doing before the doors caught his wandering attention.  
  
The man who stepped through the doors was obviously every inch an Auror from the hooded traveler's cloak that he was wearing and the duffel thrown neatly over one slender shoulder to the heavy, mud-stained boots on his feet. The emblem of service was displayed proudly upon his robes, glittering in the early morning light the spilled through the doors behind him in pale silver. He shrugged back the hood and dropped his bag on the stone floor to survey the hall with an appraising look.   
  
Then his dark eyes fell upon Martin, who was watching him with interest, and he laughed. It was an easy-going, throaty laugh, and certainly not what one would expect from a man who seemed to have a knife concealed in his boot.  
  
"Martin Dumbledore!" he called out with another laugh, striding swiftly toward the young wizard. Before Martin knew what was happening the Auror had caught him in a fierce hug, lifting him from his feet despite his rather small and wiry frame.  
  
"Uncle Alastor?" Martin questioned in a muffled voice, finally recognizing the wizard.  
  
Strictly speaking, Alastor Moody wasn't his uncle. He was his mother's distant cousin and had been her partner when she had first become an Auror and was therefore a friend of the family. His mum had wanted Alastor to be Martin's godfather, but his father had strenuously objected to this possibly at least in part because Moody was a Slytherin and the war was still on when the question had been raised. But there had certainly been other reasons, the fact that the man was generally considered quite strange not the least among them.  
  
Nevertheless, Martin still considered his Uncle Alastor an essential part of his family and one of his favorite people in the entire world. This could be considered remarkable as Alastor didn't spoil him as his Uncle Merrick, his mother's brother, tended to do and he was a bit gruff at times. The thing that set Alastor apart was his obvious, unguarded affection for Martin. He didn't have any children of his own, but he treated Martin just as though he were his favorite nephew, or perhaps even his own son.  
  
"That's right," said the Auror, setting him on his feet again and tousling his hair with a fond expression. "You've grown, laddie," he added.  
  
"I haven't seen you in a long time," said Martin.  
  
"Almost two years now, isn't it? I just heard from your mum that you'd started school," said Alastor Moody with a slight growl in his voice.   
  
He had missed the young wizard more than words could express, but as an Auror he was often in the field and away from familiar people and places, including those that he loved. It was part of the job.  
  
"Really?" asked Martin.  
  
"Of course, not that we had very much time to talk," he said a bit mysteriously.  
  
"She's still in the field then?  
  
"And where else would she be?" asked Alastor with a smile.  
  
Martin just shrugged.  
  
"Aren't you going to introduce us, Martin?" asked Sissy from behind him.   
  
There was amusement in her voice. The girls had not known what to make of the stranger's enthusiastic greeting of their friend. Sophia was hiding a smile behind her hand, finding the scene rather sweet and endearing. She instantly liked the strange Auror. Olivia was a bit more wary, but certainly impressed that Martin knew an Auror, other than his mum, of course. Corinna was perplexed. She sometimes had a sense, a feeling, about people. This man radiated confidence and caution, which were two things that did not necessarily go together.  
  
Martin went a bit pink as he turned and stammered, "Oh, this is my Uncle Alastor. He's an Auror."  
  
"And you are, lass?" asked Moody as he laid a hand on Martin's shoulder.  
  
"Sissy Howard," she replied coolly. Gesturing to the other girls, who were perhaps more easily awed and dazzled by the badge on his robes, she added, "We're Martin's friends."  
  
"Not John Howard's daughter by any chance?" asked Moody, raising his thin eyebrows.  
  
"The same," she nodded curtly.  
  
"You've got his manner. He's a good man," said Alastor with a short, approving nod. He seemed to look them all over before he told Martin, "Looks like you've chosen your friends well."  
  
"Thanks," said Martin, growing a bit redder.  
  
"I've heard tell that you have a vampire problem," said Moody conversationally.  
  
"That's right," answered Martin.  
  
"You've come here to capture it, right?" interjected Olivia hopefully.  
  
Alastor smiled at her, and it wasn't exactly a nice smile. There was a somewhat eager look in his eyes.  
  
"I've come to put an end to the creature if it so much as sets foot in the castle again," he told them in a firm, no-nonsense voice. "I've heard you've had a hand at trying to subdue it," said Alastor, looking down at Martin with a proud expression on his face. He gave his shoulder a squeeze.  
  
"Er ... not exactly," said Martin.  
  
"But you've got plans?" he hinted in a lower voice.  
  
"Honestly, uncle, I'd rather never cross paths with it again. Three times is really enough for me," answered Martin.  
  
The girls all exchanged looks. Was this man suggesting that Martin was going to try and solve their vampire problem alone? The idea made all of them _very_ nervous. They all knew that the foe was too great for any of them.  
  
Moody frowned at him, but Sophia noticed his eyes drift to the Ravenclaw symbol on the breast of his robes.  
  
"You're not a Gryffindor," he said incredulously, noticing for the first time that Martin was not a Lion like his parents. "I just assumed ..." he stammered.  
  
"It's all right," said Martin, stepping away from him. "Ravenclaw is wonderful, and I've had more adventures than I ever expected," he said quickly, silently adding, "or wanted to have."  
  
"You mum must be very proud. She puts a lot of stock in good marks and education," said Alastor, recovering as speedily as he could.   
  
Not for the world would he want Martin to think that he was disappointed. As a former Slytherin, he was relieved that there would be significantly less house rivalry between them. Inasmuch as Alastor knew, he was the only Slytherin to have dined at the Dumbledore house since before the war. Of course, that wasn't exactly true, but he believed it. And Ravenclaw was a very respectable house that would serve Martin well if he wanted to go into the Ministry after he left school.  
  
But before Martin could answer a slightly derisive voice from the nearest staircase questioned, "And the Head Boy, class of 1928, doesn't put stock in good marks?"  
  
Professor Knowles, who had spoken, and Professor Krohn emerged from the shadows. Sissy noted that Krohn removed his hand from his colleague's arm as soon as they stepped into the light.  
  
"Knowles, for the love of Merlin, you aren't still on about that, are you?" asked Alastor with a bit of a growl.  
  
"You never cared about marks, not one whit, until you found out I had the best in our year," accused the defense teacher, tucking his cane underneath his arm.  
  
Sissy imagined that he had known Moody by his rather distinctive voice, but she could hardly believe that he had gone to school with Martin's uncle as the Auror looked to be several years his senior due to the fact that his hair was showing signs of gray and his face was a bit scarred. The years had not been particularly kind to either of them, but with Mister Moody it certainly showed.  
  
"That was just incentive," answered Alastor bluntly.  
  
"Whatever you say, Moody," said Knowles. The way he said the words made them as effective as any retort.  
  
Alastor furrowed his brow as he looked at Knowles. He seemed as though he were trying to solve a puzzle.  
  
"What's happened to you?" asked Alastor, not bothering to dance around the question. He was, as many Aurors were, a plain-spoken person.  
  
"I'm blind," said Knowles with a twisted sort of smile, "which should make your stay here that much more pleasurable. You can leave things lying about for me to trip over."  
  
"Blind?" asked Alastor, taking a step toward him. There was an incredulous, disbelieving look on his face.  
  
"Yes," nodded Knowles, taking a step backward as though he could sense that Moody had come closer.  
  
Sissy could see that there was bad blood there probably leftover from their school days. It made her very uncomfortable.  
  
Krohn, putting his considerable height to good use, carefully insinuated himself between Moody and Knowles.  
  
"Let him be," said Krohn in a low voice that was full of quiet menace.  
  
"I don't need a knight in shining armor, and you are ill-suited to play the part, Reynard," said Knowles in an impatient and irritated tone. Olivia thought she glimpsed him prod Krohn hard in the back with the head of his cane.  
  
The Slytherin head of house, who probably had not realized that he had just tried to defend a Gryffindor from a Slytherin, looked slightly embarrassed and stepped out of the way again with a low, murmured, "As you wish."  
  
"I'm sorry, Knowles. How'd it happen?" asked Alastor, and at that moment he did look rather sympathetic.  
  
"Giant spiders," answered Knowles, not elaborating perhaps because he knew that students, Miss Howard among them, were present. Or maybe he didn't feel like giving Moody, who had never been a particular friend of his, such personal information.  
  
"Eh?" asked Moody with a look of confusion.  
  
"Nothing you need to know," said Knowles, inclining his chin ever-so-slightly.  
  
Sissy noted that his wand hand had inched toward his pocket.  
  
"But you're still a professor here then?" asked Alastor.  
  
"I am pleased to say that I am. Professor Dippet is certainly not running a home for hard luck cases," replied Knowles in a scathing tone. His expression remained carefully neutral. It was a shame his voice could not do the same.  
  
Alastor glanced from Knowles to Krohn and back. He seemed on the verge of saying something, but restrained himself. Martin, who knew that his uncle had a bit of a temper, imagined that whatever he was going to say would not have been kind.  
  
"I suppose not," he said, glancing at Professor Krohn in a way that clearly indicated that he thought of the potions' professor as a 'hard luck case'. This was not appreciated.  
  
"And I wonder what brings you back here, Moody," said Krohn sourly.  
  
"The headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, and your little vampire problem," he answered in a more even tone.  
  
"I can well imagine that your colleagues in Wales weren't sorry to see you go, if the rumors are true, but I can't imagine why a loose cannon like you was chosen for such an important task," said Krohn a bit derisively. It seemed that the ill feelings extended to the professor of potions as well.  
  
Sissy thought Alastor glanced at Martin before replying, "I had some time out of the field due to me, and no one else could be spared. Does that answer your question?"  
  
"Quite," sneered Krohn.  
  
"Now if you two wouldn't mind sodding off now, I want to talk with Martin here. We've got some catching up to do," said Moody with an edge to his voice.  
  
"Language ..." said Knowles in a warning tone. "If I'm not much mistaken there are ladies present," he added, grasping his cane again. Sissy raised an eyebrow as she watched his knuckles whiten.  
  
"I suppose there are," said Alastor, glancing at the four girls to find them staring at him. His lips twitched into a smile, and he winked at them. "Be on your way then," he told the two professors.  
  
Knowles and Krohn, who had clearly been on their way to breakfast, both did as he suggested without further comment, showing admirable restraint on their parts, and walked through the small group of students. The girls made way for Knowles, who still looked more than a bit disgruntled by the encounter.  
  
"Sorry about that," shrugged Alastor, "but Knowles has been getting under my skin since we were eleven. Then I had go to war with him." He just shook his head.  
  
Sissy raised her eyebrows and started to say something, but Olivia elbowed her hard, knowing that she was about to pick a fight with Martin's uncle. The course of action did not seem wise to her.  
  
"He's a good professor," said Martin with a slight wince. "Both of them are, I suppose, but Professor Krohn makes me nervous."  
  
"Are they now? That surprises me. But as for Krohn ... he's made a lot of people nervous before," nodded Alastor thoughtfully. Then he grimaced and said, "As much as I want to catch up properly, Martin, I've got to report to the headmaster. Maybe you could have yourself some breakfast in the meantime. I'll come back for you once I find out where my quarters are."  
  
"That sounds great," said Martin with a smile. "I'll be waiting right here for you," he added.  
  
"Of course," said Alastor, picking up his bag and shouldering it again, "but I shouldn't be long, I hope."  
  
After Alastor had gone, disappearing up the stairs that would eventually take him to the office of the headmaster, Martin turned to the girls and shrugged. They were all staring at him, except Corinna, who was still looking up the stairs after Alastor and toying with her messy hair.  
  
"He's really amazing. My mum says he's one of the best there is. Aurors, I mean," he told them with a lop-sided smile and excitement in his eyes. He had not expected to see his uncle again until the holidays, if even then.  
  
"He is different," commented Sissy, who was very uncomfortable with the rivalry between Martin's uncle and Professor Knowles.   
  
Sophia felt much the same way about the exchange with the professors, although she would never have voiced that opinion to Martin, even in a veiled manner as Sissy was doing, for fear of hurting his feelings. It was very obvious to her that Martin cared about his uncle very much, and vice versa, which was, in her opinion, rather sweet.   
  
Of course, his hint that Martin should be plotting a way to capture or kill the vampire made Sophia uncomfortable in the extreme as it was just the sort of thing Professor Krohn had warned her about concerning Professor Dumbledore. But if she were any judge of such things, Sophia would say that Martin's Uncle Alastor was no more of a Gryffindor than she was, despite the fact that he was branded as a 'loose cannon' by Krohn. The gleam in his dark eyes was not one of bravery, but of cunning.  
  
"I'll say he is!" echoed Olivia, who was a bit more impartial than Sophia or Sissy. "You've got to tell us all about him," she added.  
  
"During breakfast, please," interjected Corinna, finally taking her attention from the stairs.  
  
  
"So he isn't really your uncle, but he is your ... mother's cousin and was almost your godfather?" questioned Sissy after Martin had explained some things to them. She wanted to make certain that they all understand.  
  
"That's right," nodded Martin cheerfully as he crammed more egg into his mouth.  
  
"I don't suppose it's _that_ unusual," said Olivia. "My father often ..."  
  
The girls dropped their utensils and made unpleasant sounds as they moved to stop their ears. They knew that tone and that subject well enough. Olivia was about to launch into a long and doubtlessly dull story about her father, one that they most probably heard the year before when they didn't know any better. Martin just gave her an apologetic look.  
  
"Sorry," said Olivia, pouting and poking at her kippers.  
  
Martin glanced up at the high table where most of the professors, notably excluding his father and Professor Dippet, were eating and sighed.  
  
"He was great to have around when I was little. Whenever mum and Uncle Alastor came home from an assignment, he would sneak me away from my tutors and take me to do fun things, like walking in the woods near where I grew up or to wizarding London for the afternoon," said Martin with a slight grin.  
  
"You've missed him," said Sissy. It wasn't a question.  
  
"Of course, but the past few years have been busy for him, and for mum too, I suppose," he shrugged. "Of course, mum said that he was almost certainly spending the hols with us this year," Martin added. Then he frowned and said, "But if he's been assigned here ... I guess that he won't be able to leave."  
  
"Then spend as much time with him as you can while he's here," urged Corinna.  
  
He gave her a peculiar look and asked, "Do you know something?"  
  
"No," she replied a little too quickly.  
  
"Well, I don't think we have to worry about the vampire anymore," said Olivia. "I think he's going to handle the situation easily."  
  
"He had better," said Sissy, "because it still hasn't fed and it's going to be due soon."  
  
"We're eating," muttered Sophia.  
  
"What if it found something in the forest ..." suggested Corinna with an unpleasant look.  
  
"Eating," said Sophia again.  
  
Sissy leveled her eyes at Corinna and said, "I don't think what it wants is in the forest."  
  
Corinna and Martin both gulped. They knew that the thing the vampire wanted might not be just blood, just a quick feeding on a random victim. She suspected that what it wanted was Martin. The same idea had occurred to him, but Martin tried not to dwell on it as it gave him an awful case of the shakes. No one could blame him for that. Corinna was still looking forward very much to her conversation with Joseph Mallaghan as she needed more than his help at dream interpretation. She needed advice as well.  
  


* * *

A/N: Well, not Martin's mum, but ... he should make things interesting.  
  
  
HMT: He isn't exactly inept, but she is sort of speciall, hopefully not in a bad/cliched way though. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HeeroTomoe: Oops. Obviously someone out there is having a bit of fun at your expense. I thought the review was weird. Poop indeed. Sorry. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Dicere: *blush* I'm glad you enjoyed the story so far. It is getting a bit long, I'll admit; however, it's only about half over. Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	31. Lessons in history

Chapter Thirty-one  
  
Lessons in history  
  
  
  
Martin was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase that led to the office of the headmaster from the Entrance Hall, which luckily did not move very often on the weekends, when Alastor Moody returned with his duffel and a less than cheerful look on his face. The girls had retreated to the library to study, leaving Martin to wait alone, which he didn't mind at all.  
  
"Up with you, lad," said his uncle, giving him a nudge.  
  
Martin scrambled to his feet and asked, "Have they found a place for you?"  
  
"Of course. There are a few empty rooms, old staff quarters, on the fourth floor. I expect the house elves are hastening to make them livable again as we speak," Alastor informed him. "I'm going there now. Would you care to come along?" he asked.  
  
"Of course!" Martin replied.  
  
"Good," nodded the Auror, gesturing for him to follow, "because I've got a lot on my mind. Questions, if you will, that I mean to have answered. I believe you can do that for me."  
  
Martin felt his stomach drop. He knew that his uncle would want to know more about the vampire. The topic made him understandably nervous and a bit afraid.  
  
"All right," he replied.  
  
Alastor cut his eyes at Martin as they walked and saw the downcast expression that had come to his face. "You can help me get settled in first, if you'd rather," he suggested.  
  
Martin nodded mutely, but looked grateful, although he knew it was only putting off the inevitable.  
  
"The dreams I'll have tonight," he thought grimly.  
  
  
The rooms were spotless, but a bit bland in their decoration. Alastor sniffed the air as he walked inside and tossed his duffel onto the nearest couch. A fire had been lit in the hearth, but it had yet to provide warmth to the normally vacant and unused room, which had been in days long past the private rooms of the professor of Occlumency and Legimency. Those studies had been discontinued in 1898 under mysterious circumstances. The rooms had remained unoccupied ever since.  
  
"Very thoughtful of the headmaster," murmured Moody, taking in the sight of the sitting room. He had been very curious about the room as a student and had nearly broken into it twice. Unfortunately, he had been caught both times.  
  
"I'm sorry?" questioned Martin, who had not quite heard. His uncle, he knew, had a habit of talking to himself, but one could never be sure when he wanted to be answered.  
  
"Nothing," said Alastor dismissively. "I haven't bunked in a place this fine since my last leave," he added with a smile.  
  
"Really?" asked Martin, wrinkling his nose as he looked around at the old furnishings and drab curtains and so forth.  
  
"We don't have the creature comforts out in the field, you know. Hasn't your mum ever talked about bunking in tents and the like?" he asked.  
  
Martin looked at him blankly and shook his head.  
  
"Never mind then," said Alastor, rubbing one of his scars thoughtfully.   
  
He was never sure how much information about her job his former partner imparted to her son. This told him that the answer to that question was 'not very much'. He wasn't sure he entirely approved of her sheltering the boy like that.  
  
"Can I help you put your things away?" asked Martin, gesturing to his bag on the sofa.  
  
"Certainly. I thank you for the help, laddie," answered Moody, hefting the duffel up again and walking toward the bedroom. He sniffed the air again at the door with a half-curious, half-suspicious look. "Interesting accommodations to be sure," he said to himself.  
  
Martin thought it best not to inquire about his uncle's interest in the rooms and asked instead, "How long will you be staying?"  
  
"Until I've either destroyed the creature or worn out my welcome," Alastor replied with a smile. "Whichever happens to come first."  
  
"Oh," said Martin softly, "then perhaps a while then?"  
  
"Perhaps," Alastor chuckled as he began taking things from his duffel and handing them to Martin be put in the bureau.  
  
"I'm glad you're here," he confessed.  
  
"So am I. Your mum wanted to come ... but that's another matter," said Alastor, shaking his head thoughtfully.  
  
Martin wanted to ask Alastor what he meant, but the Auror was a master of evasion. If he didn't volunteer an additional explanation, then there would be none forthcoming.  
  
"I miss her too," Martin admitted.  
  
"It's not easy, coming to school and all, leaving your home and parents behind, and making new friends. I guess you got a break with your father being here," said Alastor with an easy smile. "Of course, you've had a particularly rough start, haven't you?" Moody asked, taking a few odd gizmos from the duffel and placing them on his bedside table before rolling up the bag and stuffing it under the bed.  
  
"I guess you could say that," said Martin, shuffling his feet.  
  
Alastor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and said, "Let's have a talk, lad. We can sit in the parlor by the fire. It's rather drafty in here."  
  
Martin nodded mutely and allowed Alastor to steer him into the other room. He sat down heavily on the couch with his uncle.  
  
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier in the hall. I didn't realize how close your brushes with the vampire have been. I was out of line to even joke about you trying to apprehend it," he said in an apologetic tone. "Neither of your parents cared to explain the situation to me in terms of your involvement. It was Professor Dippet who chose to enlighten me. I didn't understand how close ... I'm sorry, lad," he said again.  
  
"It's all right," said Martin, glancing up at him.  
  
"Then you won't do anything rash on my account?"  
  
"Of course not. I don't plan to do anything rash on anyone's account," Martin replied, though he chose not to add that he thought it was rather expected of him. That thought, coupled with the dozens of others he was learning to live with, gave him chills.  
  
"Good," said Moody.  
  
"People expect me to go after it, don't they? Try and be a hero like my father," he said, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"Don't be silly, Martin. You're only eleven, going on twelve. No one expects you to be a vampire hunter at your age. Though perhaps they do expect you to _want_ to do something like that. It simply isn't the same thing," Alastor explained. Putting his arm around Martin's shoulders, he added, "I certainly don't expect it of you."  
  
"What do you expect me to do?" asked Martin curiously.  
  
Alastor furrowed his brow for a moment and said, "To be true to yourself. Nothing more nor less than that. I'm sure your mum would say the same."  
  
"Not easy though, is it?"  
  
"No," Alastor admitted, "but I think you've done all right so far."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You've seen the vampire three times, right?" asked Alastor, removing his arm and becoming more business-like in his tone. He was switching into Auror-mode, something Martin had not often seen.  
  
"Sort of, but I only got a good look at it once," Martin explained.  
  
"And once should be good enough," said Alastor. "Professor Dippet passed a long your description, so I got the gist of it: pale, red eyes, altogether vampire-like. But he couldn't describe for me precisely what the _man_ looked like, the mortal who became the vampire. You probably know as well as anyone that they don't all look alike."  
  
"Right," nodded Martin in agreement.  
  
"How tall was he?" asked Alastor, taking a quill and parchment from within his robes.  
  
"Not quite as tall as my father, but still rather taller than average," said Martin.  
  
"Heavy? Thin?"  
  
"He was very thin, but broader at the shoulders. He looked ... strong," he answered.  
  
"His face, what did that look like?" asked Alastor, who had questioned dozens of people over the years about attacks by Dark Wizards and Dark Creatures. He tried not to badger Martin, though it was in his nature to question people after that fashion, and he was rather good at it by all accounts.  
  
"Sharp and sort of square," said Martin with a frown as he squinted to remember exactly what the being who had invaded the Aerie looked like. "His nose was a bit pointed too, and he had a strong chin," he added.  
  
"Any scars or identifying marks?"  
  
"None that I could see," Martin shrugged.  
  
"How old would you say he was?"  
  
"Younger than my father, but older than you are, maybe a lot older," said Martin.  
  
"Did he happen to say anything ... to you or anyone else?" asked Alastor, looking up from the parchment curiously.  
  
He was quite impressed by Martin's memory. Most people who encounter vampires could only say that they looked like vampires, which was deucedly unhelpful to law enforcement officials.  
  
Here Martin hesitated. He could recall much of what the creature had said to them, to his roommates and himself, but he had not passed those words along to anyone. He had not mentioned them to his father nor the headmaster. He had not even shared them with the girls.  
  
"Yes," he whispered.  
  
"Can you remember what? You don't have to remember everything word for word. Just the gist of it might be helpful," coaxed Alastor.  
  
"The vampire taunted us ... He said that he was going to bite one of us and that he liked to have fun with his prey," Martin told him, touching his throat as though he could feel the cold, groping fingers from the previous encounter still there, tugging at the collar of his robes. He wanted to gag. "Then he said, as we were driving him away, that he was coming back for us," Martin choked.  
  
"This is important, lad," prefaced Alastor, "but did he seem to have a particular interest in ... any of the students present at the time?"  
  
"He was looking at me, nearly the whole time," said Martin, closing his eyes as he remembered how those glowing red orbs had never wavered in their gaze, always upon him as though transfixed.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Alastor as he pulled Martin into an embrace. "You've been very brave, laddie, and I know how much you probably want to forget about all of this."  
  
"Do you know why he ... it has such an interest in me?" questioned Martin in a hoarse whisper.  
  
"I can't tell you that," said Alastor sternly.  
  
"I had a dream about it, you know," he said, sniffing slightly as his uncle rubbed his back.   
  
He felt like a child again, but it was all right. He didn't feel foolish or silly. Just oddly young. It occurred to him that he wasn't even twelve yet. That he was still young for all of this.  
  
"Maybe I still am a child," he thought, and for a moment he didn't want to grow up if it meant facing the dangers he had seen and terrors he had experienced since coming to school.  
  
"Did you now?" said Alastor in a low, comforting voice.  
  
"Yeah ... It was really strange," said Martin.  
  
"And scary?"  
  
"Yes," he mumbled into Alastor's shoulder.  
  
The Auror smiled a little sadly and kissed the top of his head.  
  
"Do you want to tell me about it, lad?"  
  
  
Martin had fallen asleep in his uncle's lap, curled up on his side, breathing softly and peacefully. Alastor didn't mind so much as it was obvious that he had not slept at all the night before nor well the night before that. Martin's dream, which he had scarcely finished recounting before dozing off, had unsettled Alastor to say the least.  
  
"That a child should remember such things," he thought, shaking his head sadly and brushing the tidy auburn curls away from Martin's face.  
  
All those years ago, he had been called to the Dumbledore household not long after the incident had been reported. He had arrived hours before Albus and had sat with his wife and young, squalling Martin while Aurors and Unspeakables combed the house for clues to the identities of the Dark Wizards. The young woman who would all-too-soon become an Auror herself and his partner gave a very precise description of one of the intruders:  
  
"_He had brown hair that was graying at the temples and cold blue eyes. He was very well-groomed. I saw his hands. There was no dirt underneath his fingernails. I would say he was a gentleman if I had met him under other circumstances. Just goes to show, doesn't it? He had very thin lips and an aquiline nose. From his manner of speech, I believe he was an Englishman educated abroad. Maybe at Durmstrang or the Akademie. There's no way to be certain. His fellows, on the other hand, didn't speak English among themselves, so we both know what that means. I'm not surprised. But -- and this might have been my imagination -- he seemed familiar somehow, though I can't say from where_."  
  
And a little more than eleven years later her son gave a strikingly similar description of a vampire who was after his blood.  
  
"I wish it weren't so," muttered Alastor, looking at the sleeping boy in his lap.  
  
He chose to let him sleep and watched the fire crackling in hearth as he gave some thought to his next course of action. Above all, he wanted to keep Martin from harm, and he could see no sure way of doing that as of yet.  
  
  
Knocking quietly on the door of the classroom where Professor Mallaghan preferred to work, Corinna fervently hoped that he would have time for her. She was anxious about the dream Martin had had, not to mention the suspicions they had conjured, and about the newcomer to the castle. The only cure for her anxiety, she believed, was a conversation with Mallaghan.  
  
When the door opened, the professor did not look surprised to see her. He smiled and ushered her into the classroom.  
  
"I've been expecting you, my dear," he said warmly, offering her a seat by the window.  
  
"You have?" she questioned as he joined her.  
  
"And I half-expected you to bring a friend," he said mock-mysteriously.  
  
"I thought you were only an expert at reading palms," she said with a puzzled frown.  
  
"Oh, I have my flashes of intuition from time to time," Mallaghan chuckled.  
  
"Then if you know what's happened ..." she began.  
  
"I am only aware that your young friend, Professor Dumbledore's son, has asked you to interpret a dream for him and that you suggested coming to me instead," he interrupted.  
  
"That's right," she nodded.  
  
"Tell me about his dream then, and I will do what I can," said the professor.  
  
Corinna did as he asked and passed on what Martin had told her, although it felt odd to be explaining someone else's dream.  
  
When she had finished, Joseph nodded thoughtfully and said, "It is quite interesting. I haven't heard anything like it in many a year."  
  
"Then what should I tell Martin?" she asked.  
  
"That sometimes dreams mean exactly what they mean. Sometimes there is no deep and mysterious meaning hidden in them, waiting to be discovered. Only the manifest meaning. Only the reality," said Mallaghan, looking out the window with a day-dreaming gaze and a soft, secretive smile.  
  
"Then ... what Martin saw in his dream ..."  
  
"Could very well have been the truth," answered Mallaghan with a shrug, turning to look at her again, "but I can hardly say that with complete certainty. Nothing can be said about dreams that is completely certain."  
  
"But if his dream is true, then he isn't safe. He won't be until the thing's destroyed," said Corinna unhappily.  
  
"That, I cannot say, though I fear you may be correct," he told her. "Have you anything else on your mind?"  
  
"His uncle ... I'm concerned that something will happen to him," she admitted. It was far easier to tell Joseph such things. She thought that Martin would have been angry, or else terrified.  
  
"Eh?" asked Mallaghan with a slight frown.  
  
"The Auror who arrived today. Martin calls him his uncle," she explained.  
  
"I had not heard," he shrugged.  
  
"Never mind then ..."  
  
"Miss Bellew, just because I don't know anything doesn't mean that you do not," he said, raising his thin, white eyebrows.  
  
"His road is going to be very hard. Full of pain and terrible trials and ... things I don't understand," she said, looking down at her clenched hands where they rested in her lap.  
  
"Will you tell him so?"  
  
"I don't think I had better, at least not until I understand more," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"Use what you know wisely," he counseled her.  
  
"I try," she said, looking up at him, "but it doesn't always work out."  
  
"Such is life," Mallaghan shrugged, patting her knee gently. "Would you care for a spot of tea before you go?"  
  
  
When Martin woke up, he felt vaguely childish. He sat up and rubbed his slightly bleary eyes as a blush crept into his face. Alastor chuckled and nudged him with his elbow.  
  
"Have a nice nap, lad?" he questioned.  
  
"Er, I suppose," Martin replied, combing his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping, but he actually felt much better.  
  
"I've had a while to think," said Alastor, "and I've come up with an idea to help keep you safe." Martin looked at him expectantly. "I'm going to ward my room," he said, nodding toward the door, "but instead of using one password, I'm going to use two of them: one for me and one for you. Yours could only be used by you and no one else. That would mean that these rooms, which I plan to ward very well against intruders, would be a sanctuary and safe haven for you, no matter what happens."  
  
"And my friends?" asked Martin with interest.  
  
"If they were with you ..." said Alastor.  
  
Martin sighed softly and said, "Thank you. But I hope I won't need to use it."  
  
"Best to be prepared for anything, Martin," warned Alastor. "We shall set the password before you go, but before then I want to give you some advice if you will hear it."  
  
"Of course," said Martin.  
  
"You have friends. But it's not in your nature to depend on anyone. Now, is it?" chuckled Alastor, who was all too aware of Martin's often lonely childhood. "Those girls that you've taken up with ... from what I've heard, they're capable of taking care of themselves, and as much as you may want to do otherwise, let them. And as they are a mite older, they may as well take care of you too."  
  
"But ..." Martin objected hotly.  
  
"Peace, lad," said Alastor sternly. "I know it goes against the grain, but five are stronger than one, and Professor Dippet and your father speak highly of them. Of Miss Howard in particular in your father's case. It is my opinion that you should stick by them. They have shown truly enough that they will do the same for you."  
  
"They're very ...loyal and brave," said Martin with a slight ironic smile.  
  
"It's not as though Gryffindor has a monopoly on courage nor Hufflepuff on constancy," said Alastor with a smile.  
  
"No, it isn't," he agreed, wanting very much to add a similar statement about Slytherin and cunning as he thought of Sissy. His uncle would probably have appreciated the sentiment.  
  
"You should also do your best to avoid Krohn," he said with a somber look.  
  
"Why?" asked Martin, remembering Alastor's earlier remark about the potions' master making people nervous.  
  
Alastor rubbed his chin and said, "That story's long in the telling. Suffice it to say that he was once thought to be a spy sent from Grindelwald, and I was never quite able to prove to my own satisfaction that he was not a Dark Wizard, in league with Grindelwald or no."  
  
"You can just leave it at that!" exclaimed Martin.  
  
Alastor frowned thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging in reluctant agreement.  
  
"He came here hardly even two years before the Muggle war broke out. Nary three months before Grindelwald made himself known to the wizarding world for what he really was. As Krohn came from Grindelwald's own country, the matter seemed suspicious at best. I was sent here by the Ministry to question him. My first job as a fully qualified Auror, you know," said Alastor.  
  
"And what did you find out?" asked Martin.  
  
"That he had a miserable attitude, a diseased personality, and a mean spirit, but anyone could have told me that. He did not take kindly to my questioning, but I must confess that, when I think about it now, I might have been too rough with him. In short, I determined that he was in all probability not a spy, but he was still what I considered to be serious trouble. Professor Dippet had taken a real liking to Krohn, so I could not get him to dismiss the poisonous little shite. Of course, after much of his family was killed by Grindelwald," and here Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, "it was generally agreed that he was not in league with the powers of darkness and we let him alone. But there was never any love lost between us to be sure. I would stay away from him, if I were you, Martin, and advise your friends to do the same."  
  
Martin looked uncomfortable as he said, "But he's Sophia's favorite professor, and like I told you before he's a decent enough teacher."  
  
"You are, of course, entitled to your own opinion," said Alastor with slightly pursed lips.  
  
"Next you'll be warning me away from Professor Knowles."  
  
"Knowles was always something of a prat, especially when we were in school, but underneath that, he's a good and decent man or at least he was when I last knew him. He did his part in the war instead of hiding as others chose to do, but I doubt he'd be any protection to you in his current state," said Alastor.  
  
"Blind, you mean," said Martin with a bit of a frown. Sissy would be livid. Or at least as close to it as she got. He could almost imagine the smoldering fire in her gray eyes.  
  
"Even so," nodded Alastor.  
  
"He's still managing his classes, you know, and without any help," Martin told him. His tone was ever-so-slightly argumentative.  
  
"Is he now? How does he read assignments and give marks?" asked Alastor.  
  
"Well, he hasn't exactly since the accident," said Martin, scratching his head. "He says he just needs to get that part worked out."  
  
"He never lacked ingenuity," shrugged Alastor. "That was the last of my advice for now. I suppose we'd better set that password and hie you back to the dormitories," he said, clapping Martin on the shoulder.  
  
Martin nodded silently, thinking how different the world was before he had come to school. He would never have questioned his Uncle Alastor back then, those scant months ago, but now he saw the world wasn't as black and white as he had thought. His uncle and the two professors had all apparently been on the same side in the war, but they appeared to hate each other. It was all very strange to him.  
  
"I wonder what Sissy and Sophia would make of it," he thought as Alastor drew his wand and prepared to set up wards for his chambers.  
  


* * *

A/N: Busy chapter, depending on how you look at it.  
  
  
HMT: I'm glad it was a surprise. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you very much!  
  
silversea: That's actually just a running gag, although I'm not certain if she'll ever actually get to tell one of her stories. Thank you for the review!  
  
Happy Reader!: I didn't think Moody would be extremely paranoid at such a youngish age. As for the objection, if you read between the lines, it says there were other reasons. I don't think there's any harm in saying that being an Auror is a dangerous occupation. Dead men don't make good godfathers. Speaking of which, I'm not in denial, but I'm trying to be more sympathetic to those who are. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	32. A curse for just such an occasion

Chapter Thirty-two  
  
A curse for just such an occasion  
  
"Perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon," said Sissy as she sat down at the table that Sophia, Olivia, and she were sharing near the rear of the library. She had just fetched a book on dueling from among the shelves.  
  
"If only Martin and Corinna would hurry up and join us. What's keeping them?" asked Olivia impatiently as she glanced up from her History of Magic assignment.  
  
"If Martin hasn't seen his uncle in a long time, they'll certainly have lots to talk about," said Sophia, who was perusing a hefty volume on antidotes, but neither of her friends could figure out why unless it was just for the fun of it.  
  
"I suppose," shrugged Sissy.  
  
"You don't like him," stated Olivia.  
  
"I neither like nor dislike him," she said indifferently, "but I am of the opinion that he's going to prove to be troublesome."  
  
This was mostly the truth. Sissy respected that he was an Auror who had come to protect them at the behest of the headmaster, but something about the way he had treated Professor Knowles had not set well with her. They had been rivals, if she understood properly, but if that were true, then he had most likely been a Slytherin. And not all of them were like her mother. Not all of them were good people. Not all of them could be trusted. Astrophel Black and his ilk had taught her that much. If not for Moody's relationship with Martin, she might have been concerned.  
  
"You won't be saying that when he takes care of the vampire," said Olivia pointedly.  
  
"If," said Sissy with a slightly sneer. "If he takes care of it."  
  
"He's a fully trained Auror. The next time it comes to the castle, I can well imagine him apprehending it," said Sophia, "or killing it." She added the last bit more quietly.  
  
"We shall see," said Sissy, holding up her dueling book for a moment, "but I don't want to take any chances."  
  
Sophia and Olivia both shuddered and returned their attention to their assignments.  
  
The girls left the library approximately an hour later to return to the Ravenclaw common room where they hoped to find Corinna and possibly Martin. A slightly rowdy group of Gryffindors, including Arthur Weasley and Molly Earnshaw, had invaded the library and Madam Pince had yet to make a move to shut them up or toss them out. The three girls found it rather irritating, but then they decided that it was time to move on.  
  
They were halfway between the library and the Aerie when they heard a voice behind them.  
  
"So where's your fat, half-breed friend, Howard?" asked Astrophel Black in a slow, poisonous drawl.  
  
Sissy whirled around and snapped, "Don't call her that. You're naught but a boot-licker's son." How her wand had found its way into her hand even she did not know. It had become a reflex.  
  
"Temper, temper," said Black with a hard sneer.   
  
She could see the anger flash in his eyes even if he gave no other sign. Her words had affected him. She was sure of it.  
  
"Did you want something? Or are you just cluttering up the hallways?" asked Sissy.  
  
Sophia and Olivia had stepped up behind her. She could practically hear Olivia seething what with that temper of hers.  
  
"Oh, I just wanted you to know that I am aware that you're the one who told that blind bat who cursed his cane, and that you should expect full recompense for that," said Astrophel conversationally.  
  
"Big words from such a little wizard," scoffed Sissy, "but thanks for letting me know."  
  
He narrowed his eyes and his wand hand drifted toward one of his pockets. Sissy made no move to stop or hex him. She wanted him to have his wand out. She longed for a fair fight, for a chance to put him in his place fair and square.  
  
Then she glanced past Black for a second and saw two figures coming down the corridor: Martin and his uncle. She scowled, knowing that if they were to have a wizard's duel in the hallway at that moment, it would be both their necks on the chopping block. She was trying to decide if it would be worth it.  
  
"I suppose we shall see about that," he said, whipping his wand from his pocket.  
  
As often happened in such situations, what followed went as no one had anticipated, not Black and certainly not the girls.   
  
Just as Black lifted his arm and Sissy brought her wand up to block the spell, Martin realized what was going on and began barreling down the hall with his very surprised uncle practically on his heels. But instead remaining idly by, Olivia and Sophia had hastily drawn their wands too, casting the first spells that came to mind. Martin, however, was on top of Astrophel in an instant, throwing off his aim as he cast some obscure hex, or possibly even a curse. Almost needless to say, few spells found their intended target.  
  
Sophia had cast a simple, but embarrassing and rather distracting spell, Tarantallegra, at Astrophel, but thanks to Martin tackling him, it shot straight past both boys ... and directly at Alastor Moody. She would have been mortified if she had seen the results of her spell, but something else was on her mind. When Sissy had deflected Black's spell, and rather neatly too, it had not dissipated. The spell had hit Sophia instead, and she found that all of the sudden she could not breathe properly.  
  
Olivia, normally a rather perceptive witch, would certainly have noticed her friend's distress if not for Martin and Astrophel scuffling on the floor like Muggles while Alastor danced a jig and tried to pull them apart. She could not help but gape, though much to her good fortune the almost harmless hex she had directed at Black had missed everyone in the corridor and struck a nearby suit of armor, rattling it quite thoroughly.  
  
"Enough!" shouted Moody, dragging Martin away from Black, who had lost his wand in the tussle and gained a bloody nose. Alastor took his own wand from his sleeve and quickly removed the dancing hex.  
  
Martin was breathing heavily and scowling at Black, who kept touching his nose and looking at the blood as though he had never seen any before. Martin had taken a few weak blows to his chest and a good one to the stomach, but he had certainly given better than he had got.  
  
"Rotten little beast!" spat Black when he found his voice.  
  
"You just keep quiet," snarled Alastor, giving Martin a good shake to keep him from saying anything back. "Now, I want to know what this was all about," he said, turning to the girls.  
  
Sissy had an enraged and insolent look on her face as she looked down at Black.  
  
"He _attempted_ to attack us," she replied in a deadly cold voice. Part of her was angry that Martin had interrupted, but mostly she was angry that she had not even had the chance to hex or curse Black.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" yelled someone from down the corridor.  
  
"Bad to worse," muttered Alastor as he released Martin and turned toward Professor Krohn, who was jogging down the passage with a book tucked under his arm. He quickly stuffed it into a pocket as he ran.  
  
"Professor! They attacked me again," said Astrophel in a phony innocent voice, holding up his bloodstained hand for his head of house to see.  
  
Krohn was no fool and had kept an eye on Black since the incident with his colleague's cane and the boils, but blood was blood.  
  
"Moody, had you hand in this?" he asked in an even voice. There was, however, a rather prominent vein in his forehead that was beginning to show.  
  
"Hardly," said Alastor, "but I did see your student draw his wand against three younger students." He did not add that Sissy Howard had seemed to have had her wand in hand first.  
  
Krohn was going to argue the point, but instead he frowned, shoved Alastor aside, and walked to where Sophia was standing, oblivious to the argument, clutching her throat and not making a sound. She was beginning to turn a rather worrisome shade of gray that almost approached blue.  
  
"What did you do to her?" hissed Krohn to his student, who remained sitting on the floor.  
  
"Nothing," he said sulkily. Krohn narrowed his heavily lidded eyes. "Er, maybe I put a Constrictus Curse on her," Astrophel grudgingly admitted. Krohn had a certain power over his own students.  
  
"You what?" bellowed Moody, reaching down and yanking Black to his feet with astonishing strength for a man of his size.  
  
Professor Krohn decided to leave Black to Moody while he calmly scooped asphyxiating Miss Colville up in his arms and began dashing back the way he had come with long and hurried steps.  
  
She grabbed a handful of his robes and moved her lips. He sneered at her and tried not to wince as she pinched him hard.  
  
"You always come out worst in these little incidents, don't you? First your wrist, now this. Someday it's going to get you killed," he lectured, looking up and down a corridor. "Help?" he asked, recognizing the word she mouthed with her almost colorless lips. "I'm looking," said Krohn. "I can't take the curse off myself. You'd probably blow up and splatter all over the hallway. Doesn't anyone realize why I almost never use simple charms, counter-curses, and all of that other bloody wand-waving nonsense?" he asked, speaking rather quickly.   
  
Sophia was too much in a panic herself to recognize nearly the identical state in her professor.  
  
"And don't you dare pass out," he continued, running toward the hall where the defense corridor was located. "Cyrus!" Krohn bellowed very loudly. "I swear, if this one-upmanship doesn't stop, young Mister Black will Avada Kedavra Miss Howard by the end of the school year, and don't think he wouldn't, if he knew how," said Krohn earnestly, knowing quite well what his student was capable of. "But knowing your luck, he'd hit you instead," he said before taking a deep breath and bellowing for Knowles again.  
  
Though Sophia was beginning to see spots, her thinking cleared just enough for the notion, "I'm going to die," to enter her mind, and that certainly didn't help matters.  
  
A door opened down the corridor and Cyrus Knowles leaned out.  
  
"Reynard? What the devil are you on about? I was studying, you know," said Knowles with a touch of irritation in his voice.  
  
"I just need you to do a quick spell for me," said Reynard as he ran down the corridor. Sophia was beginning to slip away.  
  
"Oh?" asked Knowles with only the tiniest bit of curiosity.  
  
"Miss Colville has been struck by a Constrictus Curse," he began to say.  
  
Knowles appeared surprised and said, "That's a rather nasty curse. Is she with you? Because if not, she will probably be quite dead by the time we get to her."  
  
"I have her here," said Krohn impatiently.  
  
"Bring her inside then," he said, moving to let Krohn into the classroom.  
  
"Do hurry," said Krohn over his shoulder as he placed Sophia on the desk at the front of the room.  
  
"I'll bet one of yours did this," said the Gryffindor defense professor nonchalantly as he drew his wand. "Now, where is she?" he asked.  
  
Krohn seized him by the arm and thrust him toward the desk, guiding his wand hand until it was over Sophia.  
  
"There! There!" he hissed.  
  
"_Resolvo Incantatum_!" spoke Knowles, feeling mildly annoyed by his colleague's conduct. "Well?" he asked.  
  
Krohn rounded the desk and shook Sophia by the shoulders. Sweat dripped down his face and into his eyes. She didn't move nor make a sound. In fact she still didn't seem to be breathing. If she were dead at the hands of Black ... he wasn't sure what he would do.  
  
"You did it wrong!" he accused Knowles.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"She's still not breathing, you imbecile! Do it again!" he demanded loudly.  
  
"Are you quite sure she isn't dead, Reynard?"  
  
Krohn paled and fumbled for her wrist. His hands were shaking.  
  
"Stupid, silly, idiot girl!" he said through his teeth as he scrambled to find her pulse.  
  
"That'll help," said Knowles, who was beginning to seem mildly unsettled. "Are you sure my wand was pointing directly at her?" he asked.  
  
"Of course!" snapped Krohn, dropping her wrist, apparently satisfied.  
  
"Bloody hell then. Try reviving her the Muggle way. I heard it worked one or twice in France," he suggested, referencing some obscure wartime incidents of which Krohn apparently had some knowledge.  
  
Krohn stared at him for a split second before doing as he recommended, forcing Sophia's mouth open and breathing for her. Where his colleague had learned this, Knowles could not say for certain as Krohn was very much a pureblood. But then the potions' master was always full of surprises.  
  
"Breathe, damn you!" he hissed between breaths.  
  
After a few moments Sophia gave a quiet cough.  
  
"Turn her toward me so she doesn't choke," advised Knowles, reaching to help the professor as he did so.  
  
"It hurts," mumbled Sophia as she began to come around. Her chest and throat ached terribly, and she felt as though she still couldn't breathe properly. When she opened her eyes she could see spots dancing before them again.  
  
"Maybe it will help you to learn not to get involved in brawls," snapped Krohn rather harshly.  
  
He was momentarily glad that Knowles couldn't see the relief on his face that could not be wiped away. He tore the strand of leather from his hair and let it fall in his face like a blond curtain. He stood there for a moment longer, collecting himself, before storming from the room and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
"Miss Colville, I think you should go to the hospital wing," said Knowles, patting her shoulder perfunctorily.  
  
Krohn left the classroom in as dignified a manner as he could manage and promptly collapsed, sliding down a wall, some eight paces down the hallway. He had not lost a student in many years and never one with so much promise as Miss Colville. He was grateful that the loss had been averted and conscious of the fact that it had been a very near thing. His legs were like jelly, and his hands were still shaking as he sat there.  
  
He mopped his sweat-streaked face with his sleeve and listened to the approaching sound of footsteps coming up the corridor at a run. He suspected that it was Colville's friends and Moody, but didn't bother looking up.  
  
"Where she?" called Moody.  
  
"Classroom," he replied, giving a vague wave of his hand.  
  
He listened to the students enter, but another set of footsteps, even and heavy against the stone, approached him.  
  
"I could probably have said the counter spell," Moody told him, offering him a hand up.  
  
Krohn threw back his hair and said, "As if I'd trust the life of a student to the likes of you." His eyes flashed angrily as he spoke.  
  
"Be that as it may," said Alastor, continuing to offer his hand.  
  
Krohn reluctantly accepted it and stood, scowling at the Auror with all his might and knowing that he would not leave well enough alone.  
  
"What have you done with Black?" he questioned stiffly.  
  
"He's manacled in the corridor. I thought clapping him irons might be for the best ... until his head of house could deal with him," said Moody neutrally.  
  
"Fair enough," agreed Krohn.  
  
"What will you do to him?"  
  
"He deserves expulsion, although I am reasonably certain that he did not intend to permanently harm Miss Colville, but this sort of thing has been going on between Black and those girls and young Dumbledore all term. I cannot imagine that he was not somehow provoked," reasoned Krohn.  
  
"That was an awfully powerful little curse just to have handy. Are you sure he didn't learn it for this occasion?" asked Moody.  
  
"You are implying premeditation. You ought to ask Howard about that. She cast Magnus Dedecoro on Black not so long ago," said Krohn icily.  
  
"You don't say?" commented Moody, rubbing his chin.  
  
"I do."  
  
"Then she's far more creative than he is," shrugged Alastor.  
  
"Her creativity was nearly the end of them both," said Krohn very grimly.  
  
Meanwhile in the classroom, Olivia and Martin were helping Sophia down from the desk. She looked dazed and was rubbing her throat, but she could manage to stand with a bit of help from her friends, who had been very frightened indeed when Krohn had taken off down the hall with Sophia and no explanation. They were lucky to have had Moody there to keep them calm before all four of them had heedlessly followed after the potions' master.   
  
Professor Knowles and Sissy were giving the others some room as they made certain that Sophia was all right. She felt much relieved. Unlike Martin and Olivia, she understood what sort of curse Astrophel Black had used, and how potentially deadly it was.  
  
"I hope they take his wand," she murmured to herself, watching Sophia wince in pain as she tried to answer questions from her friends.  
  
"They won't," said Knowles simply.  
  
"Why not?" she questioned.  
  
"For much the same reasons they didn't take yours. Of course, I doubt anyone will want to keep him from being punished by Pringle. I hope that gives you some satisfaction," said Knowles evenly.  
  
"A bit," she decided, "but not nearly enough."  
  
"Professor Krohn will probably devise his own punishment too," said the defense professor. Sissy managed a grim smile at that. "Do me a favor," said Knowles.  
  
"Of course, sir," she said quickly.  
  
"Get her out of my classroom and to the hospital wing, Miss Howard," he instructed.  
  
Alastor was waiting for them in the corridor when they left the classroom. He studied Sophia for a moment and nodded in the direction of the nearest set of stairs that would take them, eventually, to the hospital wing. Martin, who was still helping Olivia support their injured friend, nodded in return. His head was spinning too much to formulate an answer. Everything had happened so fast!  
  
"We nearly lost her. Sophia nearly died," he thought, trying to make sense of the words in his brain. He blinked a bit owlishly and tightened his grip around Sophia's waist.  
  
Sophia looked at him gratefully. Her normally olive skin remained the color of cold ashes, but there was the faint spark of life in her eyes again. She was beginning to recover at least in part, although she certainly would have stumbled without her two companions beside her.  
  
"Don't worry. It isn't very far now," said Olivia, tugging at her braided hair affectionately as they climbed a staircase.  
  
Sissy and Alastor were trailing somberly behind them.  
  
"Why didn't you try to take him, lass?" asked Alastor quietly.  
  
"Because I don't want to be expelled. I don't want detention with Pringle again either," she told him coolly.  
  
"I suppose I can understand that," nodded Moody thoughtfully.  
  
"Of course, if I had realized that this would be result of his actions ... I would have cursed him first," she said in a low, dangerous voice.  
  
"Know some good ones, do you?" he asked.  
  
"Of course," she said, inclining her chin slightly. "I am at the top of my class in defense," she added, giving him a sideways glance. He looked properly impressed.  
  
"You know that with knowledge comes power, and with power there comes responsibility," he said.  
  
"Naturally. That has not escaped my attention," she replied.  
  
"Good," he murmured as they followed the others into the hospital wing.  
  
Sissy, not to mention the others, frowned in surprise when they entered the hospital wing to find Corinna already there waiting on them. She was as white as a sheet and standing with Professor Mallaghan. The expression on his face was one of calm curiosity.  
  
"Sophia! Are you all right?" asked Corinna, dashing over to them. They were making for the nearest bed. "That scoundrel didn't hurt you, did he?" she questioned anxiously.  
  
Sophia couldn't talk because it hurt too much, but she shook her head and tried to smile as Martin and Olivia helped her onto the bed.  
  
"You knew?" asked Martin in surprise.  
  
"Yes, but I didn't know where the fight was going to happen. All the castle's corridors look the same!" she explained, wringing her hands in frustration. "I was with Professor Mallaghan at the time, and he suggested that we come here and wait and see," she added, reaching and patting Sophia's hand as she lay down. "We've only been here five minutes or so," she said as an afterthought.  
  
"She'll be fine. I'll fetch the mediwitch," said Alastor, giving Corinna an odd look as he walked away.  
  
"The Inner Eye can make some people very nervous," commented Mallaghan with a slight chuckle. "I would count Mister Moody among them," he added once the Auror had disappeared from sight.  
  
"He was one of your students, professor?" asked Sissy, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Indeed," nodded Mallaghan, "and a very bad one. He took the subject for only two terms, decided it was hurting his marks, and quit. I haven't seen him since."  
  
"Isn't anyone going to tell me what happened?" asked Corinna.  
  
"I thought you already knew," said Sissy.  
  
"Not everything!" Corinna protested in exasperation. The talent hardly provided her with a Muggle moving picture show of the events. Just snippets of the occurrence.  
  
"Black hit her with the Constrictus Curse ... that was meant for me," said Sissy with an uncomfortable wince. "She couldn't breathe ..." she added in explanation.  
  
"And we didn't even notice," muttered Olivia.  
  
Martin nudged her and shook his head, trying to tell her that they were not the ones at fault.  
  
The story was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Stop crowding her!" she ordered, forcing Martin and Olivia away from the bed. They obediently moved to the foot of the bed where Mallaghan was standing. "I want all of you out of here!" said Poppy, removing her wand from her pocket.  
  
"But ..." Olivia began to protest.  
  
"Can't one of us stay?" asked Martin.  
  
"Only one of you, just like the last time," said Pomfrey with a fierce and serious glare.  
  
Martin, Sissy, Olivia, and Corinna all exchanged looks, trying to decide who would stay. It was not an easy decision to make since they all wanted to remain with Sophia.  
  
"Poppy, dear, I hope you don't think that applies to Mister Moody or to me. I remember when you were when you were an eleven-year-old with pig-tails and a rather charming lisp," said Mallaghan.  
  
Poppy blushed a deep crimson as she examined her patient.  
  
"I believe I recall that too ... you were such a darling little girl. How on earth did you turn out like this?" asked Moody.  
  
"Out!" she ordered.  
  
"But my back is starting to twinge again," said Mallaghan, putting a hand to his back. "I'll need some of that liniment of yours and someone to help me back to my tower," he continued a bit melodramatically. He looked at the girls for a moment before adding, "I'd like Miss Bellew and the girl with the Evil Eye to be my escorts."  
  
Sissy looked at him sharply and pursed her lips in mild indignation.  
  
"And I've been the victim of a dangerous hex. There might be lingering effects," said Alastor, who had caught on quickly. He had new respect for Mallaghan's so-called talents, counting the ability of ... imaginative fabrication among them. "Martin will certainly need to stay with me," he said with twitching lips.  
  
Olivia grinned and said, "Then I have no choice, but to be the one who stays with Sophia."  
  
Sophia was grinning, the pain momentarily forgotten, as she watched the humorous scene unfold.  
  
"I give up," sighed Madam Pomfrey. "Just stay out of my way, all of you."  
  
Mallaghan summoned a chair and sat down heavily. He watched Poppy work for a moment before gesturing for Corinna to join him.  
  
"I am impressed," he said to her.  
  
"Don't be. I wasn't any use to her, was I, professor?" she questioned quietly.  
  
Joseph noticed her eyes drifting toward Moody, who had an arm around Martin's shoulders. He just shrugged.  
  
"Tell me what you know about him," said Mallaghan in a low voice.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," she said bluntly.  
  
"That is only naturally your right, my dear," he conceded with a slow nod, "especially if you don't believe you can change anything."  
  
Corinna sighed softly and said, "I don't think anyone could change this."  
  
"We shall see," said Mallaghan placidly.  
  
Sophia was required to stay in the hospital wing overnight, and the mediwitch threatened to keep her out of classes if she did not rest quietly. To this end she was given a mild Sleeping Potion just before her friends and professors, which eventually included her very worried and understandably upset head of house, were finally sent away. She was relieved to know that none of her friends would be punished nor would Ravenclaw lose any house points. This was mostly due to Alastor Moody, although it was Professor Krohn who had reported the incident to Professor Flitwick. Sophia slept more easily knowing these things.

* * *

A/N: I'm going to be on vacation away from my computer for the next few weeks. Please be patient for the next update.  
  
HMT: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: I can't say how it's going to end. Thanks for the review!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you!  
  
Happy Reader!: I'm glad you liked the idea. I won't think you pinched it. Thank you for reviewing!  
  



	33. A vision of the past

Chapter Thirty-three  
  
A vision of the past  
  
Life was back to normal by Tuesday of the following week, or as normal as it could possibly be with a hungry and vengeful vampire on the loose. Sophia had not missed any of her classes, though she was still a bit peaky and tired out a bit before the other girls did. The encounter with the dark curse had taken a lot out of her, and she was slow to recover by anyone's estimation.  
  
But to the grim satisfaction of all involved, Astrophel Black looked far more haggard and unhappy whenever they saw him at meals. Sissy noted with some interest that he wasn't eating and that his friends appeared to be shunning him. Slytherin would not recover from the loss of points that he had single-handedly inflicted upon them. They were almost seventy points behind Ravenclaw, which was in third place, but speedily gaining on Hufflepuff. And the term was not yet half over.  
  
As with every Tuesday that term, Martin went to have lunch with his father, walking from the History of Magic classroom, through the densely packed halls to the office of the Transfigurations professor. The door, as usual, was open, but he could hear two people conversing inside. He paused when he realized that one was Uncle Alastor. The other was, of course, his father.  
  
"I'm worried too. I'm going out to the forest this afternoon and look for a way to track the creature. I can't stand waiting for it to come here any longer," said Alastor.  
  
Martin swallowed hard at the thought of his uncle going into the Dark Forest, and alone as likely as not. He rubbed his eyes as he remembered how Professor Knowles had looked after doing the same.  
  
"Say good-bye to Martin before you go," said Dumbledore.  
  
Martin gulped. That didn't bode well.  
  
Alastor laughed heartily and said, "I'll see him again before dinner. There's no need. Unless your hinting that I'm not coming back, Albus."  
  
Martin heard the sound of parchment being shuffled before his father replied, "Not at all. It's just that he's standing right outside the door."  
  
The younger Dumbledore colored slightly as he stepped into view. He had not meant to eavesdrop. It had just happened.  
  
"Er ..." he said, scratching his head.  
  
"You look peaky, lad," commented Alastor, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked by, intending to leave. "Come and visit me before curfew. Your friends are welcome too," he said as an afterthought before stepping into the corridor.  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Martin to his father.  
  
"For what? I was expecting you," said Professor Dumbledore, putting a stack of parchments on the corner of his desk.  
  
"Is Uncle Alastor really going into the forest?" he asked, walking over to the window.  
  
"Yes," answered the professor with a nod, "but I wouldn't worry about him too much. It's daylight, and Alastor has gone into the Dark Forest many times before, though it has been a while. And if he somehow manages to find the vampire, it will be much easier to destroy now than it would be at night."  
  
Martin felt a little relieved at this. He had not considered that the vampire posed a less significant threat during the day. But not everything in the forest feared the light. Martin was quite aware of that, but he also had a lot of faith in his uncle, who was considered a very good Auror.  
  
"Do you like having Alastor here?" asked Dumbledore, who was keenly aware of how much time the two had spent together both in the last few days and while Martin was growing up.  
  
"Of course," Martin replied with a smile.  
  
"I received an owl from your mother this morning. She thought you would enjoy seeing him again. She also sends her regards," said Dumbledore.  
  
"I've haven't heard from her in weeks," said Martin.  
  
"She said the same about you. I would write her if I were you, Martin. She's out in the field still and not having an especially nice time of it. Her team is investigating Dark Magic use in Wales. It's a nasty business," Dumbledore informed his son.  
  
"I'll do that," said Martin. "Was Uncle Alastor doing that too before he came here?" he questioned.  
  
"More or less," answered his father. "Perhaps you should ask him about it."  
  
"I will," nodded Martin, "but you know that he might not answer."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled thoughtfully and said, "He always does what he thinks is best."   
  
His tone was almost an admiring one, which Martin thought was strange as he knew his father had at one time or another found Uncle Alastor somewhat objectionable.  
  
"I don't think the girls are too fond of him, but they are beginning to come around," said Martin.  
  
"He does take some getting used to," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. "I hardly knew what to make of him myself when he was a student and when he first became an Auror. During the war I thought he was reckless, stubborn, unorthodox, and perhaps a little dangerous, but I got over all of that," he said with a smile.  
  
"How?" asked Martin.  
  
"Your mother was assigned to train with him and she found him acceptable. They were and are a lot alike, in case you haven't noticed."  
  
"Mum's not reckless," said Martin with a frown.  
  
"Not _as_ reckless to be sure, but you've never dealt with her in her official capacity as an Auror," said Dumbledore, silently adding, "nor with her performing the duties of an Auror in unofficial capacity."   
  
This was something she had done before they were married and before Martin was born. It had spurred her on to enter Auror-training as she had proved herself very capable in France and the Netherlands during the war, though not in the same manner as Professor Dumbledore had. She had not seen any action, of course, but there were other matters ...  
  
"I suppose ..." Martin said.  
  
"How are your year mates treating you these days?" asked Dumbledore, changing the topic of discussion.  
  
Martin gave him a lop-sided smile and said, "All right. They're much easier to get along with now."  
  
"A common foe can do that," said Dumbledore.  
  
That evening after supper, during which Alastor had been present and apparently none the worse for his adventure in the forest, Martin took the girls to visit his uncle with him. They were all curious to know what Moody had seen and found in the Dark Forest, none more so than Sissy, who still shivered to recall Professor Knowles' words on the subject.   
  
It was about an hour before curfew, although it was nearly dark outside already, thanks to looming winter storm clouds, which were threatening to bring an early blizzard to Hogwarts. But as there were five of them together, they were still permitted in the halls. Sophia for one thought that it was dangerous and a little irresponsible for them to take advantage of this as she preferred, when heeded, to return to the dormitories or at least the less sparsely populated parts of the castle well before the sun finished its descent.  
  
The route that they were taking from the Great Hall, which Moody had left long before they had finished their meal, was a laborious one as the staircases were already switching and moving for the night.   
  
As the five students passed by the darkened classrooms on the third floor, Corinna felt a shiver run up her spine.  
  
"It's come," she said in a low voice.  
  
They all knew that she meant the vampire.  
  
"Where is it?" asked Sissy in a whisper, grabbing Martin and Olivia by the arms to prevent them from stopping. She thought it best that they kept moving.  
  
"In an old classroom somewhere just behind us," she answered. "The window's half-boarded up or something."  
  
"Then we can't get to the Aerie without doubling back," said Sophia as she followed closely behind Sissy and the others, glancing over shoulder.  
  
"No," said the blond Ravenclaw, releasing Martin in order to draw her wand.  
  
"But we can make it to my uncle's rooms," he said, following her good example, though his palms were already sweaty.  
  
"We should run," said Olivia, gripping her own wand with tight knuckles.  
  
"It would hear and overtake us," said Corinna. "It can probably fly much faster than we can run. Best that we don't make too much noise," she added. Her face was grim and pale.  
  
"How far?" asked Sissy after a moment.  
  
"Upstairs and down a couple of passages, if the stairs are in the right place," said Martin.  
  
"You and Olivia had better lead. I'll take the rearguard," said Sissy, ushering them forward and dropping back behind Sophia and Corinna.  
  
No one argued with her. They just nodded and obeyed, even strong-willed Olivia, who walked shoulder to shoulder with Martin.  
  
"I hate this," whispered Sophia, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. It had become stifling and hot as they marched quickly through the corridors toward the stairs.  
  
"Me too," said Corinna.  
  
They heard nothing but their own feet on the stone as they walked up the stairs to the fourth level of the school. The castle was quiet and seemed almost empty. But this did nothing to abate their fear or ease their minds as they moved as quickly and quietly as they knew how through those deserted corridors. Sissy glanced over her shoulder a half dozen times as they clambered toward the fourth floor. Still nothing.  
  
"This way," said Martin as they entered the area of the old staff quarters.   
  
He had never found that area particularly creepy, but Alastor had always been with him before. That late evening, every shadow seemed to reach out for him with grasping fingers and ill-intent.  
  
Several minutes later they reached the door to his uncle's chambers. Martin didn't bother to knock and simply spoke the required phrase, _child of wisdom_, and hastily opened the door. The girls shoved their way inside behind him with Sissy nearly slamming the door as soon as she was over the threshold.  
  
"What in Merlin's name?" asked an incredulous voice.  
  
Martin turned to see his uncle emerge from the bedroom with his wand in hand. He was also wearing only one boot, but Martin hardly noticed in his panic.  
  
"It's out there," said Martin breathlessly.  
  
Alastor's eyes widened, and he asked simply, "Where?"  
  
"The third floor classrooms," he answered swiftly.  
  
"You all stay here," said Alastor, dashing for the door and nearly knocking Olivia aside in his haste. "Don't open the door for anyone," he added, grasping the knob. He looked at Martin for a moment and said, "And I mean anyone."  
  
"Right," he nodded before Alastor disappeared, closing the door tight behind himself.  
  
They all stood there for a moment to catch their breaths before Sissy, Olivia, and Sophia walked over to the couch and sat down, tucking their wands away and staring into the fire that burned in the hearth. Martin remained rooted near the door. Corinna wandered through the parlor, taking in the room with a dazed expression.  
  
"Will he be all right?" asked Martin after a moment. He shook his head to clear it and turned to Corinna, expecting an answer.  
  
He frowned as she walked toward the open bedroom door without acknowledging him. She had a day-dreaming, musing look on her face. She didn't even seem to hear him.  
  
"Corinna?" he asked more loudly as she stood looking into the dimly lit bedroom.  
  
The fact of the matter was that Corinna did not hear Martin. Something else had her attention, prying open the lid of her Inner Eye and forcing an image upon her that was contrary to what was truly to be beheld ...  
  
_Corinna found herself standing in the doorway of an elegantly decorated bedroom. The windows were open, letting in the soft light of evening and a breeze far warmer than was to be expected in early December. The bright blue curtains of the bed fluttered slightly. Their reflection in a mirror in the corner caught her eye. The mirror, free standing and draped, but not completely covered with a dark green, silken cloth, was obviously an antique. Corinna had not seen one like it since visiting her paternal aunt. For a moment Corinna smiled. The room was quite lovely and meticulously kept for that of a witch or wizard; there was nothing out of place.  
  
That smile faded as she heard footsteps behind her. A cold sensation flooded her body as a man seemed to pass through her. Her breath hitched in fright. Was he a ghost? She gulped as she realized that his feet fell evenly upon the floor. He was no mere spirit who stood before her only a few paces away. He was for a brief moment unmoving as he paused with his back to her, but his fists were clenched by his sides. Corinna trembled as she watched his nails dig into his palms.  
  
Then, moving with the speed of a striking snake, he tore his robes from his shoulders. The sound of the fabric rending in his hands startled her. He flung the tatters onto the rug at his feet, panting slightly.   
  
His hands went to the high collar of his old-fashioned shirt. She braced herself, expecting him to rend it as well, but he stopped and began to unbutton the garment rather methodically. One button, then another with no wasted motion. Then it fell unceremoniously to the floor, leaving him clad in only his pants and shoes, which he kicked off before stepping toward the mirror.  
  
Corinna still could not see his face even as he lifted the green shroud slightly and rubbed his face with both hands. She longed to step forward and look, but she felt that she was intruding on something very private. She felt as though she had no business there, and yet as though she were there to a purpose. Her eyes lingered upon him as he stared at his own reflection, grasping the edges of the wooden mirror stand with both hands.  
  
He was like that for a long time. Then the muscles of his back tensed and knotted. He gasped aloud and brought his right hand to his eyes. Corinna shivered as she watched him rub his fingertips together. They were smeared with blood.  
  
She took a hesitant step toward him as though drawn against her will. He wiped his fingers on his dark, loose-fitting pants and stepped toward the bed. Again, her view of him was obstructed by the billowing curtains. He flung himself down onto the soft mattress. The bedclothes rustled beneath him as he turned upon his back and lazily draped an arm over his midsection.  
  
Corinna was pulled toward the opposite and nearer side of the bed. Her heart was pounding as she watched his head loll toward the window. His cheek was blood-splattered, and she noticed that his close-cropped brown hair was sweat-drenched, although she could not understand what exertion he had performed for it to become so. He had merely been looking into the mirror.  
  
His chest rose and fell more slowly after a moment. She realized that he was sleeping, or perhaps he had fainted.  
  
Then his head turned in her direction. A chill passed through her as he spoke.  
  
"Someday I will teach all of you a lesson."  
  
Looking at his finely chiseled face, she finally understood something. This man looked like the one whom Martin had described, the vampire before he had been bitten. His eyes opened, and he licked a fleck of blood from his lips.  
  
Corinna screamed in terror._  
  
"No, she just ... fainted," said a frustrated voice from somewhere nearby.  
  
That was the first thing Corinna heard when it was over, when whatever had happened to her ended and let her return to the world she knew. She was only dimly aware of what was going on and afraid to open her eyes once she realized they were closed. Warm arms encircled her, although she was almost certain she was half-lying on the floor too. That was a significant realization in that it was startling enough to cause her eyes to open involuntarily. She found herself looking up at Martin Dumbledore's chin.  
  
"Corinna?" asked Sophia, whose voice was higher than usual. She was more than a little frightened. Corinna felt her give her hand a squeeze.  
  
"Lass?" questioned the growling voice of Martin's uncle.  
  
When had he returned? Corinna imagined, given his presence, that she had been out for more than just a few moments.  
  
"Say something," urged Martin, gazing down at her with worried hazel eyes.  
  
"You caught her, so she didn't bump her head, right?" questioned Moody, looking over his shoulder.  
  
"Of course," Martin replied.  
  
"I think I had a vision," Corinna murmured absently as what she had seen came rushing back to her in all of its strangeness and unwholesome curiosity.  
  
"Of what?" asked Sissy, squeezing the hand that Sophia wasn't holding.  
  
"A man ... who lived here in these rooms ... I think," she said.  
  
Moody made a bit of a face and seemed to blanch, but he recovered quickly.  
  
"Who to fetch, I wonder," he mumbled, rubbing his slightly scruffy chin absently, "Pomfrey or Mallaghan."  
  
"I don't want to go to the hospital wing," said Corinna, trying to sit up.  
  
Martin looked worried, but he permitted it. She noticed then that he was a little pale too.  
  
"Well, there's really no need, if it was only a vision ..." said Alastor thoughtfully. "Help her to the couch, would you, Martin? It's bound to be more comfortable than the cold, hard floor," he recommended.  
  
"But she fainted!" protested Sophia as Sissy helped Martin to haul Corinna to her feet.  
  
"Don't worry about it," said Corinna, leaning on Sissy, but giving Martin a grateful glance.  
  
"But ..." Sophia began to protest.  
  
Olivia elbowed her harder than she intended, cutting her off before she could argue her point. Sophia rubbed her ribs and glared, but kept silent.  
  
Corinna sat down very heavily on the couch with her two friends at her side.  
  
"How long was I ...?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
"Nearly ten minutes," said Sissy. "If ... Mister Moody hadn't returned, we would have probably tried to take you to the hospital wing," she added, glancing up at Alastor who was standing behind them with Sophia and Olivia.  
  
"And it would have been a foolish stunt," he said.  
  
"The vampire?" asked Corinna.  
  
"Too quick for me. I saw a bat fly out of an unwarded window. I'll take care of that in the morning," said Alastor, adding under his breath, "for all the good it'll do."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Corinna.  
  
"What for?" he asked with a frown.  
  
"I don't know. I just am," she shrugged.  
  
"I can contact Professor Mallaghan for you, if you think it would help, lass," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I see him every Saturday ..."  
  
"That's a long way off," said Alastor.  
  
"I wouldn't want to trouble him," she said softly.  
  
"If I'm any judge, I don't think he would be bothered at all," said Alastor with some confidence. Of course, he was right; this was the sort of thing that Divinations' professors lived for.  
  
Corinna hesitated. Only one thing was truly stopping her. She wasn't ready to discuss the details of what she had seen. She didn't understand what it meant, only that the vampire had once lived in the castle and in those very rooms. He had once been a professor, she surmised, and in her mind that made him all the more dangerous.  
  
"No ... it can wait," she said to Alastor.  
  
"If you insist," he shrugged, being of no mind to force the young witch to do anything so against her will.  
  
"Thank you," she said quietly. Turning, she posed a question of her own: "Who was he? The man who used to live here?"  
  
Alastor considered her question and replied, "He was a professor, and a very disturbed man by all accounts. I don't think I should tell you anymore than that."  
  
There was an imploring look in his slightly beady dark eyes as though he wanted her to ask no more questions. She understood. He thought it would frighten the others to know that a wizard who had been a professor had turned to evil and darkness. Corinna rather thought that he was right and merely nodded. If it were possible she would ask Joseph Mallaghan her questions on Saturday or pursue the matter with Moody at a later date.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I was out of town.  
  
HeeroTomoe: Thank you very much for the comprehensive review! I would try to answer some of your questions, but I think most of them are answered in later chapters.  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you!  
  
silversea: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HMT: I think you have a stalker or something. Thanks for reviewing!  
  



	34. Where the wild things are

Chapter Thirty-four  
  
Where the wild things are  
  
A few days after that, during breakfast in the Great Hall, something unexpected happened. Rubeus Hagrid, the apprentice to the groundskeeper, lumbered into the hall and right up to the high table. As a matter of course one did not often see the sizable young man inside the castle, especially during mealtimes. The girls were of the opinion that he generally was not allowed. Consequently, his presence that morning piqued their interest.  
  
The very large failed wizard made his way to the High Table and stopped in front of the headmaster, who looked up from his breakfast with a mild start. As they watched, Hagrid leaned across the table and tried to whisper something to Dippet. This did not work very well as Hagrid hardly had a voice for whispering.  
  
"They want ta see you, sir. Them that's out there, I mean," he told Dippet quite earnestly.  
  
Dippet might have asked him who, but they could not hear him.  
  
Hagrid only smiled a bit oddly as he replied, "Them, sir! What lives in the forest. They're awfully upset."  
  
The headmaster glanced at his deputy, who couldn't help but hear Hagrid too, and both professors left their seats. Several other faculty members began to rise, but Dippet gestured for them to remain seated, except Professor Kettleburn, whose silently offered assistance and support he did not refuse. The three professors followed Hagrid quickly from the Great Hall.  
  
Sissy had rarely ever been given cause to be grateful to the impetuosity of her Gryffindor schoolmates, but that morning as a number them left their table, following the professors and Hagrid, she felt rather in their debt. Their actions, easily attributed to curiosity, motivated the rest of the hall, including her Ravenclaw peers, and they found themselves on their feet almost without realizing it. The entire student body was moving toward the doors.  
  
Sophia glanced at the high table where a number of the professors had rose from their chairs, but none of them called out a warning to the students, or if they did, then their voice did not rise above the sudden clamor. Sophia surmised than none of them had taken the initiative to stop the stampede and as the first Gryffindors rushed from the hall, they knew it was too late.   
  
Alastor Moody, she noted, had made his way through the crowd against the implicit order of the headmaster.  
  
"What do you suppose has happened?" asked Martin as they pushed their way through the crowd, which was hard work for first and second years. He glanced at Corinna with a hopeful expression on his face.  
  
She rolled her eyes and said, "I don't know anything."  
  
It was several minutes before they found themselves at the open doors of the school looking out upon the grounds. The crowd had stopped near the top of the stairs as it offered a good view of what was going on.  
  
Four centaurs could be seen at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Three were holding spears, one of which was tied with a white flag of truce. They had come to talk. The leader had an iron gray beard that covered much his bare chest and the horse half of him was also gray. The two others who bore arms were brown in color, though one was dappled and the other plain, and they seemed much younger with short beards and muscular arms. Their faces were stony, but there was something angry about the way that they stamped their hooves against the earth as the wizards approached them.  
  
The fourth centaur was different. Sophia was the first to notice him, if the others even heeded him at all. He appeared to be a foal, a young centaur, with pale blond hair and the body of a palomino. He had wandered a bit from the rest of the group, looking at the castle with a sad, but thoughtful expression.  
  
She wondered what they were doing outside the forest as centaurs did not often choose to mix with humans. Whatever the cause of their visit, it was likely to be grave and unpleasant. She glanced at the three centaurs and the staff members who had gone out to meet them. Their voices did not carry over so great a distance, but as she watched, the leader of the group pointed toward the castle, back into the forest, and to the castle again.  
  
"Perhaps they have word of the vampire's movements," she mused, knowing that the two types of beings, vampires and centaurs, were natural enemies, though she had never heard tell of exactly why.  
  
Then she turned her attention to the young centaur again. He had wandered nearer to the castle, taking in the sight of it as though he had never beheld it before. Sophia had the sudden urge to go and speak with him. She slipped unnoticed through the crowd and down the stairs toward him. The others were busy trying to figure out what was the matter with the trio with spears.  
  
She was still several paces away from the centaur when he turned and looked at her with a calm, but perhaps ever-so-slightly curious expression on his face.  
  
"Hello," she said. Sophia paused as she did not know what his reaction to her would be.  
  
His gaze dropped her legs. They were hidden by her long school robes, which were buttoned against the cold. He seemed mildly disappointed.  
  
"Hello," he replied solemnly.  
  
"You've never seen Hogwarts before, have you?" Sophia asked him.  
  
"Only from a great distance, and in my dreams," he answered. "I never realized it was so large," he added, craning his neck to look up at one of the towers.  
  
"I was surprised the first time I saw it too," she said.  
  
He looked at her again with mild amazement in his eyes.  
  
"Really? Are you not accustomed to such things?" he asked.  
  
"No," she replied, shaking he head, "I had never seen a castle before I came here."  
  
The centaur looked more thoughtful, more pensive than ever as he said, "I don't know very much about the ways of wizards or ought else that walks as you do. It is strange that you should build yourself cages when you could walk free under the stars. Or so it seems to me."  
  
"Cages?" questioned Sophia.  
  
He gestured to the castle and said, "Such as this."  
  
"It's hardly a cage. We can leave whenever we like," she told him.  
  
"Can you really?" he asked, though it was not a question, but more of a jest. But whether jest or no, he remained solemn.  
  
"Why have you come here?" she asked.  
  
"My father insisted that I should do so," he said. "My mother was killed last night by one who was once of your kind, but is now an enemy to us all."  
  
"I'm sorry," she stammered.  
  
"For what? His deeds are not yours that you may be sorry for them," said the young centaur.  
  
"It was a vampire, wasn't it?" she asked.  
  
"Yes," he nodded. "It comes and goes through the forest as it has a will. A very cunning creature that none can track. Few of us have even seen it. We are fortunate that it more often prefers to feed upon its own kind."  
  
"Have _you_ seen it?"  
  
"Only its shadow," he answered.  
  
Suddenly Sophia felt a hand upon her shoulder and started.  
  
"Back to the castle with you," growled Alastor Moody, pulling her backward a few paces before allowing her to turn.  
  
"But ..." she began to say.  
  
"It's not safe, lass, and you've seen enough trouble of late," he interrupted, looking over her at the young centaur, who was watching them placidly and calmly.  
  
Across the grounds one of the other centaurs called, "Firenze!"  
  
He glanced at the castle and at her one last time before galloping away toward the Dark Forest and the others of his kind.  
  
"He was nice," said Sophia softly.  
  
"He's young. It wouldn't do for you to approach a full-grown centaur that way. You'd certainly find yourself in a spot of trouble then," he said, walking back toward the stairs with her. The crowd there was beginning to disperse as the professors returned to the castle. "They may look very nearly human and very lordly and wise, but they are Beasts, you know, and quite wild. They have no love for our kind either," he explained to her.  
  
She frowned and tried to think of something to say, but Sophia knew that what Alastor said was the truth, though it pained her to admit it.  
  
When the others learned what had happened in the forest the previous night, they all felt a guilty sense of relief. The vampire had fed, they assumed, but it had cost a centaur her life. That meant the vampire would be biding its time. Maybe they would be safe ... at least for a little while, until it needed to feed again.  
  
Nonetheless Sissy and Corinna knew that there were no guarantees, as did Martin, because they were aware that the vampire might come for him at any time, hungry or not. Sophia and Olivia were beginning to have certain suspicions too. But they all hoped that the time would not soon come when their young friend would be forced to face the vampire again. Sissy, Sophia, and Olivia were pinning their hopes on Alastor Moody. But Corinna couldn't do that. She knew too much.  
  
And maybe it was because of those thoughts that Corinna had what she considered to be a prophetic dream ...  
  
_She walking down an alley in wizarding London. She could tell that it was the early hours of the morning and that she was not alone. There was a man walking in front of her in Ministry robes. She glanced over her shoulder and laughed at two wizards who were walking behind her. They smiled at her. One of them said something, but she couldn't hear the words, only her own happy laughter, ringing in her ears. It had been a good night, and these were her friends and colleagues, worthy wizards one and all.  
  
She knew that she was due home soon, that her husband would be waiting, even though she always instructed him not to wait up for her. He was silly, but he loved her. An image of laughing, sparkling eyes flashed through her mind.  
  
One of her escorts said something that made her laugh again. She glimpsed the insignia of the Department of Mysteries on his robes. She felt very proud. The best department in the entire Ministry ...  
  
They passed a closed shop as they neared Diagon Alley, and Corinna glanced at her own reflection in the darkened window. She was taller, of course, but still a few pounds overweight, at least in her opinion, and her hair was incredibly messy. The insignia on her own black robes also belonged to the Department of Mysteries and marked her as an Unspeakable. She was still rather young and seemed so very happy.  
  
Then something strange happened. An eerie green light flashed from behind her. She could see its reflection in the window too as it rushed toward her. She frowned in confusion for an instant before it enveloped her. Then everything became suddenly dark and cold ..._  
  
Corinna awoke in a cold sweat, tangled up in the blankets and quilts that she normally tossed off during the night. She swallowed and tried not to gag. Her hands were shaking so much that she could hardly grasp the covers to untangle them.  
  
"The Killing Curse ..." she whispered, remembering everything Sissy had told her about it the year before. The Unforgiveables were one of Sissy's many Dark Arts-related obsessions.  
  
Corinna realized that she had foreseen her own death and shivered.  
  
"Not supposed to happen," she said to herself, not meaning the event of her death, but the dream. She was certain that she was not meant to possess that terrible knowledge.  
  
She drew her knees up and pulled the blankets close around herself. The coldness of the curse still pervaded her body, covering her like an icy, damp second skin.  
  
"Corinna, what's the matter?" asked a voice in the darkness.   
  
Her movements and whispers had awakened Olivia, who, probably due to her incessant teeth grinding, was a lighter sleeper than Sissy or Sophia.  
  
"Just a dream ..." she stammered in a high and shrill voice that was louder than she had intended.  
  
She heard Olivia stirring, climbing from bed, and longed to tell her that she was all right and just to go back to sleep. But she couldn't.  
  
A moment later her own curtains opened, but it was too dark to see anything but a vague movement. There was a momentary cool breeze that accompanied it, making her shiver again.  
  
"Are you all right?" asked Olivia in a low voice.  
  
"For now ..." whispered Corinna, not knowing how to answer her question.  
  
She was jostled slightly as Olivia clambered none too gracefully onto the bed and closed the curtains again.  
  
"Was it about the vampire?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
"No," Corinna replied, "it had nothing to do with it at all. It was just ... a bad dream."  
  
"About the future?" guessed Olivia. She was quite perceptive and had not missed the whispered comment Corinna had made.  
  
"Yes," Corinna told her with another shiver.  
  
"Stop being stubborn or cryptic or whatever it is you're doing and just tell me about it," said Olivia rather forcefully.  
  
Corinna blinked away tears and said, "I died ... in my dream."  
  
Olivia reached out in the darkness and silently patted what she surmised to be Corinna's foot.  
  
"Sorry, but at least you've answered a rather interesting question: if you die in a dream, do you die for real," said Olivia in a false-humorous, but comforting tone. "Apparently, you don't."  
  
"But don't you see. I really will die ... and ... and it isn't that long from now. I don't think I was more than thirty years old, if even that," she explained.  
  
"That's eighteen years," Olivia pointed out.  
  
"If that!" protested Corinna.  
  
Olivia sighed softly and said, "Well, you have been wrong before. You could be wrong now."  
  
"I'm not," said Corinna flatly.  
  
"But you could be, Corinna!" Olivia insisted. "I mean, I'm not going to plan to lose one of my best friends in eighteen, twenty, or even fifty years! We're all going to be together 'til the end."  
  
"Don't say that. You're going to have a long and wonderful life, Olivia," said Corinna not at all grudgingly.  
  
"Not if you don't!" argued Olivia angrily.  
  
The next thing they knew, they were both nearly blinded by a flash of light as someone lit a lamp and threw back the curtains around Corinna's bed.  
  
"What on earth is the matter with the two of you?" asked Sissy in an irritated voice. It could be reasoned that Sophia was lighting the lamp. She scowled as she looked at Corinna. "Have you been blubbing?" she asked crossly.  
  
"No," said Corinna with a sniff and what was meant to be a defiant look. That as good as cinched it for Sissy.  
  
Sissy made a bit of a face as she made room for Sophia in the gap in the curtains.  
  
"What happened?" she asked much more kindly than Sissy had, although her eyes were bleary with sleep.  
  
"Corinna says she's going to die," blurted out Olivia, who Corinna now noticed looked pinched and pale.  
  
"We're all going to die someday. Does she plan on doing it immediately? Tonight?" asked Sissy harshly.  
  
"I've got about eighteen years, I think," said Corinna with a mechanical sort of shrug.  
  
"No good worrying about it now then," said Sissy, leaning against the bed.  
  
"Sissy! Corinna says she's going to die!" gasped Sophia. "Can't you at least pretend to care?"  
  
"I will do no such thing. I _do_ care. I just don't see what can be done about it tonight," said Sissy with a hard glare. She did care about her friends, and Corinna was her best friend. It was an unkind thing for Sophia to say. She was only be practical about the matter.  
  
"Thanks," said Corinna, very much wanting to be left alone with her revelation.  
  
"Can we do anything for you?" asked Sophia, reaching to brush Corinna's hair from her eyes.  
  
"I don't think so," she replied.  
  
"How did it happen?" asked Sissy, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest as Sophia gave her a menacing look.  
  
"It was an Unforgivable ... the Killing Curse ... from behind. I hardly even saw it coming," she answered, rubbing her eyes as she remembered the reflection. The scene replayed itself over and over in her mind.  
  
Sophia gasped, and Olivia looked horrified. Sissy just nodded thoughtfully.  
  
"Do you know who did it to you?" asked Olivia.  
  
"I ..." she began, her eyes darting toward Sissy, "The people I was with ... I think they were all with the Department of Mysteries."  
  
"Impossible!" Sissy snorted. "The Ministry would never employ people who were willing to use a curse like that."  
  
"I only know what I saw," said Corinna.  
  
"Do you know why they did it? What their motives were?" questioned Sissy in a very business-like fashion.  
  
"We were in London, and they were walking home with me ... or maybe they lived nearby too, and we were all laughing together ... There was no reason ..." she said, shaking her head.  
  
"There's always a reason," said Sissy logically. "Did you see their faces?" she asked.  
  
Corinna squinted and found that she could not make them out. They were all men and all wearing Ministry robes, but she could not recall their faces. Her memory of them was blurry and distorted at best.  
  
"No," she answered.  
  
A meow from the floor caused Sophia and Sissy to turn. Oscar had been awakened by the excitement and was staring up expectantly at his mistress's bed with wide eyes. Sissy made room for him to jump onto the bed where he landed with a plop on the covers before scrambling toward Corinna. She smiled slightly and gathered the kitten into her arms. He purred and butted his head against her chin as though sensing her distress.  
  
"Who will take care of you when I'm gone, I wonder," she thought, scratching behind his ears.  
  
"Corinna ... don't take this the wrong way, but maybe you should try and forget about the dream," suggested Olivia hesitantly.  
  
"She's right," said Sissy. "It will only make you unhappy to think about such things. Remember it, but don't think about it, not until you have to."  
  
"I ... I'll try," she said.  
  
"Try and get some rest too. Tomorrow may be Saturday, but there's still no good exhausting yourself, all right?" said Olivia, climbing from the bed and giving her a weak smile.

* * *

A/N: I don't often write centaurs.  
  
silversea: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
snickdoodle10201: Thanks for the review!  
  
HMT: She's a rather private person and likes to think things over for herself before running to others for help. She's secretive, I guess. Thanks for reviewing!  
  



	35. Hearts and histories

Chapter Thirty-five  
  
Hearts and histories  
  
Corinna dusted the snow from her shoulders as she returned to the castle after Quidditch practice the following morning. Her face was rosy from the cold, neatly hiding the lingering pallor.   
  
Practice had been grueling despite the fact that the team would not be playing Gryffindor until sometime in late March or early April. Ambrose wanted to make certain that they would win. As Gryffindor was undefeated thus far, Corinna considered the prospect of besting them an unlikely one. While she had not voiced this opinion out loud, Alec Sexton had, leading to row between him and his captain.  
  
But the argument between her teammates left her mind quickly as she stepped into the warmth of the castle. She glanced toward the Great Hall, knowing that her friends would be waiting for her, and made a decision. They could afford to eat without her for one morning. She was going to pay a visit to Professor Mallaghan and see what he made of her dream from the night before.  
  
Due to changes in the scheduling of Quidditch practices, all four of Corinna's close friends usually met her for breakfast on the weekends, and as she did not show up at the expected time, they were all becoming a bit nervous, except Sissy, who had brought a book to breakfast.  
  
"This isn't like her," said Martin with a frown. His stomach growled quietly.  
  
"She had a nightmare last night. She's probably just lagging behind a bit this morning," said Olivia, glancing at North and Parker at the end of the table. They were already having their breakfast.   
  
"It wasn't a nightmare. It was a prophetic dream," corrected Sissy, flipping a page in her book: _The Complete History of Hex-Deflection_.  
  
"About what?" asked Martin with more than a little interest. He was fascinated by the idea, despite the fear the had been evoked by the fainting episode in his uncle's chambers.  
  
"Her own death," said Sissy coolly, still not looking up.  
  
Sophia may have given her a quick, disapproving look at her nonchalance, but no one noticed.  
  
"She's going to die?" asked Martin in a surprised croak. "When? How? What are we going to do?" he asked.  
  
"In about twenty years, from the unforgivable Killing Curse, and nothing at the moment," replied Sissy as she closed her book with a snap, "because there's nothing we could do to influence the future so far in advance."  
  
"We could try to keep her out of the Department of Mysteries," suggested Olivia.  
  
Sissy scowled and said, "Joining tomorrow is she?"  
  
"Maybe if you stopped tutoring her so much in defense, she wouldn't be able to get in and then she wouldn't be killed," said Olivia.  
  
"I will not! Corinna needs all the help she can get," snorted Sissy, not believing that making Corinna even less able to defend herself would help matters in the least.  
  
"I don't understand any of this," said Martin, shaking his head in frustration. "It's stupid. No one can know when they're going to die."  
  
"Are you certain about that, Martin?" asked Sissy with the barest trace of contempt in her voice. "Maybe you or I couldn't, but Corinna isn't like us, or haven't you noticed?"  
  
"I've noticed," he said quietly, looking down at the table.  
  
"Well, you can all argue about this as long as you like, but I'm going to look for Corinna," said Sophia, standing.  
  
"Why do you get to go?" asked Olivia.  
  
"It was my idea," she shrugged, walking hurriedly away. They were beginning to give her a headache.  
  
Sophia wasn't sure where precisely to start her search. She didn't fancy walking out to the Quidditch Pitch in the snow, especially without a coat, but as some of the team had already returned to the castle, she imagined, or at least hoped that Corinna had done so as well. That in mind, Sophia started up the stairs that led toward the Aerie as it seemed quite likely that Corinna had returned there to change clothes, or to brood about her dream and skip breakfast, which was not at all like her.  
  
As Sophia walked down one of the corridors between the main stairs and the hall leading to the library, she heard footsteps coming from a side passage. She glanced that way to see Professor Krohn with his arms full of parchments.  
  
"Good morning, professor," she said.  
  
He looked at her with an irritated expression. They had not spoken since the incident with the Constrictus Curse. Krohn had neatly avoided any attempt on her part to thank him for helping her whether before or after potions' class or in the corridors. Sophia was becoming rather certain that he didn't wish to speak with her at all. She believed that the incident had in some way embarrassed him.  
  
"Good morning, Miss Colville," he said brusquely.  
  
The professor was about to walk past her, continuing on his way, when she asked, "Are you angry with me, sir?"  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned. "Why on earth would I be angry with you?" he questioned with a puzzled, albeit still irritated, look on his face.  
  
"I don't know," she shrugged awkwardly, "but I get the feeling that you are. I've wanted to tell you how ... how grateful I am for your assistance ever since ..."  
  
He held up a hand and stopped her before saying, "You are quite welcome as it was part of my job, especially considering that it was one of my students who had cursed you." Krohn took a deep breath and shuffled the papers that he held before continuing. "But I should explain that I have lost good students before. One here and one when I was briefly a teaching assistant at the Akademie. I am forced to learn the same lesson over and over again, Miss Colville. This time I finally think I've got it."  
  
"What lesson, sir?" she asked.  
  
"When teaching, never invest one's personal feelings in one's students," he stated simply.  
  
Sophia looked at him blankly, trying to determine what he meant by that. "I don't understand," she said.  
  
"Don't you?" he asked with a slight sneer. "You are, for what it's worth, one of my best students. I ... I worry about what will become of you because of your involvement with those little hooligans you hang about with. I really shouldn't, because any professor who wears his heart on his sleeve like that will surely go mad."  
  
"Your heart on your sleeve, sir?" she repeated with a confused look.  
  
He laughed, perhaps a bit derisively, and said, "I only mean to say that none of us can afford to be sentimental about our students. Going about thinking, 'Oh, isn't she just like I was at that age?' and other ruddy nonsense of that sort will only make any of us who do it go stark raving."  
  
"I've never known you to be overly sentimental about anything, professor," she said, though she felt very much complimented by the comparison.  
  
His sneer deepened as he said, "Good. I'd have it no other way." Then Krohn rubbed his eyes with his free hand and added, "But you don't know everything, do you, Miss Colville?"  
  
"Not yet," she replied coolly, "and you still haven't answered my question."  
  
"Which was?"  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"Was that it? I seem to remember something else," he sighed. "I'm certain that this is difficult for you to believe, but I find the idea of losing one of my few competent students .. unsettling ... at best. Perhaps if I _have_ been ignoring you in order that I may stop holding you in so high esteem."  
  
Sophia smiled, deciding that his words worked themselves out to be a compliment of sorts. "I don't plan on going anywhere, sir. You will have me in your Newts classes in four years. Count on that," she told him, inclining her chin in a mildly defiant manner, but continuing to smile.  
  
"Would that I could count on it," he said with a wry expression.  
  
Sophia remembered then what he had told her about young people believing that they were immortal and wondered if this attitude, her attitude, was what he meant by it. Then she realized that she was supposed to be looking for Corinna, not trying to patch things up with her potions' professor.  
  
"I should be going," she said.  
  
"As should I," he nodded, turning abruptly on his heel. "Good day to you then, Miss Colville," he said as he walked away.  
  
She couldn't help but watch him as he strode away quickly down the corridor. He was rather strange, and a bit sad, she decided before going on her own way as well.  
  
He had never told anyone of Myrtle Meeks' aptitude for potions, and the subject remained too sore to broach even now, nearly twelve years after her untimely death. She, like Sophia, had also been a Ravenclaw.  
  
Of course by this time Corinna had reached the Divinations' tower and climbed the long stairs leading up to Professor Mallaghan's office and classroom, where she knocked upon the door and chewed her lower lip as she waited. She imagined that he might be busy, although it was rather early, or worse yet, still sleeping.   
  
And Corinna had just begun to feel foolish. She had had a dream, nothing more. At the time it had felt very real, but nevertheless it was only a dream. Why should she disturb the professor at a half-indecent hour just for that? She could just as easily return in the afternoon ...  
  
She was about to turn and go when the door to the office swung slowly open. She started as Professor Mallaghan stuck his bald head out into the narrow hallway.  
  
"I thought I heard someone moving about. Half a moment, Miss Bellew," he said with a smile, ducking back into the office.   
  
She had the impression that he was still in his dressing gown and was going to his rooms, wherever they might be, to change..  
  
"Of course," she said, mostly to herself, as the door closed with a click.  
  
Corinna paced back and forth in the hallway as she waited. Had she a quill and parchment she might have left a note and scuttled away, despite the cold gnawing in her stomach that told her she was right to be afraid and right to seek the advice of someone far more experienced than she was in these matters.  
  
It was relatively soon thereafter when Professor Mallaghan reappeared in slightly rumpled robes.  
  
"Sorry to keep you waiting, my dear. I wasn't expecting you so early," he said with a kindly smile and a look in his eyes that told Corinna that he already knew something.  
  
"I'm not intruding, am I?" she asked as he unlocked the classroom door.  
  
"Don't be silly. You are always welcome here, no matter the hour nor the day," Mallaghan told her.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, making her way to the soft, comfortable chair by the window.   
  
She smiled to herself as she watched the snow falling faster outside. Thank Merlin that Quidditch practice had finished before the blizzard started.  
  
"What brings you here this morning?" asked Mallaghan, drawing up a chair for himself as always. "It must be important or else you'd be having breakfast with your house mates," he added with a smile.  
  
"How did you know that?" asked Corinna.  
  
Joseph chuckled and said, "You do the same thing every weekend. I have breakfast occasionally too."  
  
"I've never noticed ..." she said.  
  
"Nor should you. I don't like being seen doing ordinary things," he said with a joking smile. "Divination instructors are expected to have a certain ... mystique, you understand," he added.  
  
"Of course," nodded Corinna, struggling not to giggle.  
  
"Would you like to have morning tea while we chat?" he inquired.  
  
"No thanks," she said, not wanting to admit that she was afraid that she couldn't keep it down. Her stomach had knotted painfully.  
  
"But you wouldn't mind if I had a little something ..." he said with a smile.  
  
"Of course not, professor," she said quickly.  
  
Professor Mallaghan left his seat stiffly and went to prepare a cup of tea and send down to the kitchens for a plate of eggs. He glanced at Corinna, who was staring out the window again, and shook his head. He wasn't oblivious to her anxiety, but he knew by experience, mostly with his own son, that it would lessen given a few minutes sitting comfortably and quietly. Joseph was tempted to prepare two cups of tea and feign forgetfulness. It had worked before, but the temptation to put a mild Calming Draught in her cup along with the tea was too great.  
  
"Not my place," he murmured, pouring only his own tea. A plate of warm eggs appeared nearby.  
  
Returning with his breakfast, he watched Corinna for a few minutes longer, waiting for her to choose to speak.  
  
"You asked me if I had ever foreseen my own death ... the first time I came here, you asked me that," she said.  
  
Professor Mallaghan nearly choked on his eggs. He held up a hand as she looked concerned.  
  
"Caught me off guard," he said after a moment of coughing. "Care to tell me why you're bringing up the topic again, my dear?" asked Joseph.  
  
Corinna shifted uncomfortably in her seat as he set his breakfast tray aside.  
  
"Sir, have you really foreseen yours?" she asked.  
  
Mallaghan understood why she was asking him that question. It was very obvious that she had had a premonition or something regarding her own death, but was not ready to tell him that in such explicit terms.  
  
"Yes, yes, I have," he admitted with a nod.  
  
Corinna looked at him with an odd mixture of dread and anticipation in her bright blue eyes. Mallaghan sat back in his seat and took a deep breath.  
  
"It happened when I was nearly forty years old and teaching at the Akademie der Zauberei in Germany. I saw myself as a rather old man, going to bed one night and never getting up again. Despite the circumstances, which were not so terrible, I was quite shaken up about it. From what I recall I drank myself into oblivion and was severely reprimanded the next afternoon," he told her with a half-smile.  
  
"Did you know how old you were?" asked Corinna.  
  
"More than one hundred and thirty-one, obviously," he said, still smiling, "but, no, I wasn't certain at the time."  
  
"But it still frightened you, even though you knew you were going to live for a very long time?"  
  
"Only naturally. Almost every Seer or expert in Divinations I've known, regardless of their specialties or professional proclivities, has seen known their end before it came upon them, and every single one of them was frightened by it. Sometimes I think that it's knowledge that we aren't meant to have," explained Professor Mallaghan.  
  
"Then why do we have it?" she asked.  
  
His smile saddened at the use of the word 'we' as it confirmed his suspicions.  
  
"I loaned you a book on visions and dreams ..." he reminded her gently.  
  
Corinna blushed and said, "I've glanced at it, sir, but I haven't had very much time."  
  
"Chapter Eighteen might be of some interest to you, when you do have the time," he told her kindly, "though it might be a bit advanced in terms of theory."  
  
"I'll remember that," she nodded.  
  
"Good. Now your turn, Miss Bellew," he said, patting her knee.  
  
"I dreamed about it ..." she said cautiously.  
  
"Mine was a vision brought on by the wind in the trees," he told her, trying to get her to open up.  
  
"Sounds more pleasant," ventured Corinna.  
  
"I came around with a third year prodding me with a stick to see if I was dead or drunk," he chuckled. "I scared him nearly out of his wits. I believe he might have been Professor Krohn's maternal grandfather," Mallaghan added. "But do go on, Miss Bellew," he said with a gentle smile as the momentary nostalgia passed.  
  
"I was in London ... I suppose near Diagon Alley. I was walking with three wizards, and all of us were wearing robes from the Department of Mysteries ... I was an Unspeakable," she said with a slight smile.  
  
Corinna had never imagined doing anything as prestigious as that when she grew up. Despite the fearfulness she experienced when thinking about the dream, that aspect made her just a bit proud of herself.  
  
"Congratulations," said Mallaghan with a smile of his own.  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
"Then what happened?" he asked.  
  
"All of us were laughing, but I couldn't hear properly, or at least I couldn't hear everything that was being said," Corinna told the professor.  
  
"That's not at all uncommon," he assured her.  
  
"I felt ... very happy," she said, deciding to omit the portion about going home to her husband. She thought it sounded very silly. "Then we walked past this shop window, and I looked at my reflection ..."  
  
"You were how old?" he probed curiously.  
  
"Possibly thirty, I suppose, but I can't be sure," she said as her smile faded.   
  
"Of course not. Then what?"  
  
"There was a green light from behind me. Then everything went cold and dark."  
  
Mallaghan regarded her very thoughtfully. He felt a pang of regret as he took both of her hands in of his, not knowing precisely what to say to her. He had hoped that her revelation would have been like his: a peaceful, merciful death in old age. But it appeared that it would not be so if she were right.  
  
"I am very sorry, Miss Bellew," he said quietly.  
  
He did not doubt the authenticity of the vision at all. The detail alone was sufficient as he had already verified that she possessed the talent. And in these matters, Seers were far more often right than wrong.  
  
"Then there isn't anything I can do?" she asked.  
  
"To cheat fate? I've never known anyone who has," he said solemnly, "but don't let that stop you from trying." He gave her left hand a comforting squeeze before letting it go.  
  
"I won't, sir, and that's a promise," she said.  
  
There were unshed tears in her eyes, but he could tell by the way she clenched her jaw that she would struggle to change things and do so with great mettle and bravery. He squeezed her other hand again and absent-mindedly dabbed at his own eyes. He wondered if Thomas, his son, had tried to do the very same thing when he went to warn the people of Sedan. He could never be certain.  
  
"Good, lass," he murmured.  
  
"I ... I have another question for you, sir, if you don't mind," she said hesitantly.  
  
"You have only to ask," he replied.  
  
"I saw something ... a vision ... in one of the old teacher's quarters on the fourth floor. It's the one Mister Moody is using at the moment. I wanted to know who lived there before," she said.  
  
Mallaghan's eyes widened and asked, "What did you see?"  
  
"A man. I think he was a professor here a long time ago and stayed in those rooms," she replied.  
  
Corinna did not think it wise to tell him that she was almost certain that the wizard had become a follower of Grindelwald and then a vampire.  
  
"If you mean the seldom used chambers ... then you would be referring to former Professor Christoph Somerville, who instructed students in Occlumency and Legimency for a time," said Mallaghan with an unpleasant look.  
  
"What can you tell me about him?" she asked.  
  
"Not very much. We both kept to ourselves, you see, but I suppose that any man who taught such things could be accounted as strange," he answered. "But I would chance to guess that you know the end of his story," said Mallaghan thoughtfully.  
  
"Hardly," she replied, wondering if he meant by that that Somerville had become a vampire. Not exactly the end though, was it?  
  
"Rumors persist for a long time. I am surprised," he said.  
  
"Rumors?"  
  
"Somerville practiced Legimency on himself ... as a way to uncover his own forgotten memories, discover his deepest thoughts and desires, or so they say, and to steel his mind against others practiced in the art. Very dangerous thing to do. There are much safer means to achieve those ends. Would that he had used them," said Mallaghan ruefully.  
  
Corinna thought of the wizard she had seen standing in front of his mirror, blood coming from his eyes, and shivered.  
  
"What became of him then?" she asked.  
  
"At first we thought he had driven himself mad and run off and drown in a bog. All of the professors searched long and hard for him that spring. 1898, I believed it was. Long before your time, I know, my dear. But he was not found. And he was only here a scant eight years," said Mallaghan with a shake of his head. "Of course, little did we know then," he added.  
  
"He wasn't dead," said Corinna.  
  
"No, he wasn't. No one heard from Somerville for years and years, until the rise of that Dark Wizard," said Mallaghan, referring to Grindelwald. "Then it was learned that he was one of his most loyal soldiers and trusted followers."  
  
Corinna shook her head as she grappled with the knowledge that a trusted Hogwarts professor had become the ally of Grindelwald.  
  
"How did this happen?" Corinna asked.  
  
Joseph sighed and said, "I've asked myself that a few times. Professor Dippet was the defense instructor and deputy headmaster at the time, so he can hardly be blamed for the hiring of Somerville, but he did get along with him better than most. Professor Dumbledore, for one, was rather suspicious of Somerville. He never said why though. I imagine it had to do with his skills. People don't like mind readers in general, you know."  
  
"But why did he join Grindelwald?" pressed Corinna.  
  
Mallaghan winced at the use of the dreaded wizard's name and remembered that she was a Half-blood and knew comparatively little of the conflict, which had lasted nearly nine years and cost hundreds of lives in England alone, not to mention what had happened on the continent.  
  
"I don't know how to answer that, Miss Bellew. Perhaps because of the promises for a better life. Perhaps for revenge against those whom he believed had wronged him. Perhaps some combination of many factors, including those," said Mallaghan.  
  
"_Someday I will teach all of you a lesson_."  
  
Corinna gave a small shudder and realized that vengeance might have been Somerville's motivation. But for what wrong, she did not know, and she doubted that Mallaghan did either.  
  
"When you saw him in your vision, what was he doing?" asked Joseph curiously.  
  
"He was in his rooms at the mirror. Then he laid down on his bed. His eyes were bleeding," she said succinctly. "It was really frightening," she added.  
  
"Ah, practicing then," nodded Mallaghan thoughtfully.  
  
"Do you know very much about the stuff he was doing?" she questioned.  
  
He smiled and said, "No, my dear, I'm afraid that one seldom finds persons skilled in both those skills and ours."  
  
"Oh," she said softly.  
  
"But if you are interested ... Professor Dumbledore takes students from time to time," he said, "although I don't want to get your hopes up."  
  
Corinna frown hard and asked, "But you said that the professor doesn't like mind readers."  
  
"Your point?"  
  
"But if he is one ..."  
  
"Ah, well, it's a funny gift," Mallaghan shrugged. "Almost as bad as ours," he added with an amused smile. "Now, I think it's time for you to return to your friends before they become worried ... unless you have more questions."  
  
"I don't believe I do," said Corinna, leaving her seat.  
  
Joseph rose as well and put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Do be careful, Miss Bellew, if you choose to pursue the matter of Professor Somerville. He was a very disturbed man, the likes of which you should not concern yourself with," he told her.  
  
"Of course," she said neutrally.

* * *

A/N: Lots of information in this chapter, but very little action.  
  
Free Punch: Thank you!  
  
HMT: Sorry to hear that. I've really appreciated your reviews!  
  
mirkwoodmage: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: blushes Thank for the review!  
  



	36. Departures

Chapter Thirty-six  
  
Departures  
  
The next week all of the students at Hogwarts who intended to stay at school for the holidays were required to put their names on a list posted in the Entrance Hall, which would later be collected by Professor Flitwick as he was in charge of such things. Professor Dumbledore, unlike most years, was staying at the school for Christmas and the New Year, which meant that Martin was staying as well.  
  
Martin could not help but feel depressed, especially after Corinna had told him about the mind-reading professor-turned-vampire. He had hoped to escape all that for a few weeks. He had been day-dreaming since the beginning of December about playing games with his mum or with the house elves and spending Christmas at home. He was positively crushed.  
  
The one saving grace was that Alastor was staying at the school too, continuing his one-man vampire hunt. But even Martin's Uncle Alastor could not replace his mum.  
  
And Sophia and Corinna were going home for the holidays, meaning that only Sissy and Olivia would be remaining behind with their friend.  
  
Sophia had plans to see a professional Quidditch match with her parents as her mother was becoming 'overly nostalgic' about her own days of playing Quidditch at school. She had played for the Ravenclaw team as Keeper from 1927 to 1929, but had not managed to pass either her skills nor her love of the game on to her daughter. Corinna was going with her parents to visit some of her father's family for part of the holidays and spending the rest at home.  
  
Sissy had volunteered to remain at school when she learned that Martin was forced to stay, and Olivia was remaining there too. Sissy also had grand plans for the library, which she knew she would have mostly to herself. Her parents, who had cajoled her into coming home the year before, were only naturally distraught, but she was quite adamant about staying.  
  
"Someone has to look after Olivia and Martin," she told herself.  
  
Olivia's parents were going to visit old school friends who currently lived in Switzerland. She was half grateful to be staying at Hogwarts, but home would certainly have been better, although she was pleased to be able to stay for the purpose of cheering up Martin since she couldn't have a traditional family Christmas anymore than he could.  
  
But they were to have a surprise on the last day of classes that only one of them, Corinna, of course, had anticipated.  
  
That morning at breakfast Corinna's fork fell from her hand with a clatter that was easily drowned out by the murmur of conversations that filled the Great Hall, but her friends noticed nonetheless. She turned quickly toward the high table where Armando Dippet had risen to his feet. He was gazing down at them, all of his students, with a paternal, yet soft and somewhat sad smile. She thought she could see the brightness of tears in his eyes. He blinked them away surreptitiously as Dumbledore, who was seated by his side, reached up and patted his elbow.  
  
Professor Dippet turned to his deputy for a brief moment and smiled fondly at his younger colleague. She did not know what passed between them nor was that foremost in her thoughts.  
  
"Your attention, please," said Dippet in a loud, strong voice as he addressed the student body. He waited patiently as the talking stopped and his young pupils looked up at him expectantly.  
  
"He's leaving," whispered Corinna.  
  
"I would like all of you to know before _The Daily Prophet_ arrives that I am retiring as of six o'clock this evening. The time has come for me to step down and pass the governance of this fine institution into younger and more capable hands," he said, nodding toward Dumbledore, who did not seem pleased, only saddened and a little defeated. "I have been headmaster for forty-five years, which, I am afraid, has been far too long. But I am a selfish old man and couldn't bear to leave you before now. I want to thank all of you for such a memorable tenure here at Hogwarts," he said with a wistful smile before taking his seat again.  
  
"You were right. I can't believe it," said Olivia, shaking her head ruefully.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Corinna as the chatter around them began again with renewed fervor.  
  
Martin was as white as sheet. He couldn't believe it. His father had just been made headmaster. Wasn't life complicated enough already?  
  
"I think I'm going to sick," he said quietly before running from the hall.  
  
Classes that day were subdued. Even the professors, many of whom had received no advanced warning, were affected by the headmaster's announcement. Flitwick was morose. Krohn was unusually temperamental. Sprout was close to tears. Knowles was unusually terse.  
  
But Ravenclaw house was hardest hit by the news. Dippet was one of their own, the best they had to offer, and he was going to leave them. Many of the older students were profoundly morose, walking from class to class in a stupor, the holidays forgotten in their melancholy. The girls felt much the same as the rest of their housemates did, knowing what an asset, what a rare and special individual, Professor Dippet truly was to them.  
  
"I can't believe it," Olivia muttered to herself all day long.  
  
"Neither can I," said Corinna.  
  
"At least you knew beforehand!"  
  
"I tried to warn all of you ..." she shrugged.  
  
"It still isn't fair," said Olivia a bit too loudly, losing five points from Ravenclaw as Krohn had heard her outburst.  
  
That evening it came as no surprise when Olivia announced that she wanted to see Professor Dippet off. The others, even Martin, who was still green around the gills, decided that it was an excellent plan.  
  
"I mean, it's the least we can do," babbled Olivia as they winded their way through the castle in the direction of Dippet's office. "He's been great this year, hasn't he? I wish he weren't going, but we can't do anything about that ..."  
  
"Do you mind?" snarled Sissy as they walked. She wasn't handling it very well either as she had a great deal of respect for Dippet, a brilliant scholar and capable leader, and significantly less for his soon-to-be successor.  
  
"Sorry ..." murmured Olivia, sounding anything but.  
  
"Maybe he can come back after this vampire business is over," suggested Corinna hopefully, wishing to Merlin that she knew something, anything that would make the situation seem less bleak. She knew nothing of the kind.  
  
"Unlikely. He's not taking a leave; he's _retiring_," said Sissy.  
  
"It's so terrible," said Martin, shaking his head.  
  
"We'll be getting a new teacher for Transfigurations," stated Sophia with a small sigh. "I imagine the remainder of the term will be disrupted," she added. Her sympathies were with Corinna.  
  
"But they won't be able to replace my father that easily. Transfigurations' experts aren't easy to come by," said Martin.  
  
"He's right," said Sissy in agreement. "For all we know he could have double duty until the spring or even the beginning of next term," she added.  
  
"I don't envy him," said Olivia, shaking her head at thought of someone even attempting to teach classes _and_ be headmaster of the school. Both required tremendous time, effort, and energy.  
  
The five Ravenclaws were in for a surprise when they reached the hallway just below the headmaster's office. It was packed with students. More than half of Ravenclaw house had turned out with the same idea as them, as had an only slightly smaller number of Hufflepuffs, a smattering of Gryffindors and the odd Slytherin. Nearly two thirds of the school had decided to show up for the occasion. They had all come to pay their respects to their departing headmaster. Olivia found the sight very touching.  
  
"I can hardly believe it," she whispered as they found places to stand.  
  
"Believe it," said Sissy with a bit of a smile.  
  
They did not have long to converse as moments later the gargoyle that guarded the office of the headmaster moved aside to allow Armando Dippet to pass for the last time. He was carrying a pair of satchels, one in each hand, that, despite their petite size, contained everything that he would be taking with him. When he saw the crowd of students in the corridor, he smiled.  
  
"I was hoping to slip away quietly," he told all of them, setting his bags down on the floor. This was the reason why he had chosen to leave the day before the train came to take most of the students home for the holidays.  
  
"We couldn't let that happen, professor," said Broderick Bode with an uncharacteristically warm smile. "You might think we didn't care or something," he added, extending his hand to the headmaster.  
  
Dippet shook the young wizard's hand and said, "I would never, Bode; I've known some of you far too long for that." He glanced at some of the other seventh years accompanying Bode.  
  
"Sorry to see you go," said William Potter, who was Head Boy, as he also shook hands with Professor Dippet.  
  
"Rubbish! You'll have a Gryffindor headmaster now," chuckled Dippet with a smile.  
  
"Aye, but we'll be losing our head of house in the bargain," said George Wood.  
  
"And who says we want a Gryffindor for our new headmaster?" asked Ernestina Blythe, wrinkling her nose at the prospect.  
  
"Now, now," admonished Dippet almost jokingly.  
  
"I'm with them," said a student in a cowl. He looked out the window where the evening light had just faded and the sun had dropped below the hills. Throwing back the hood, Andrea Zabini added, "I wish you could stay, sir, but since you can't, I want to thank you."  
  
"Nonsense, my boy, you've nothing to thank me for," said Armando, shaking his pale, cold hand with no less fervor than the others.  
  
"If you say so," said Zabini with a slight smile.  
  
As he stepped aside Dippet's eyes fell on Martin and the girls. He beamed at them and motioned for them to step closer through the crowd.  
  
"I would very much liked to have seen what becomes of the five of you," he said, looking at them each in turn. He found that he had developed at soft spot for Dumbledore's son and his friends, despite the trouble they had caused or been a party to during the term. They would make any Ravenclaw proud.  
  
"I'm sorry my father's taking your job," said Martin, shaking hands with the professor.  
  
"Don't be silly. That's what he's here for," laughed Dippet.  
  
"Just the same, sir," Martin nodded.  
  
"We'll miss you, professor," said Olivia, speaking for all of them.   
  
Despite the fact that they had known him less than two full terms, they, Olivia and Corinna especially, found it difficult to imagine Hogwarts without him. He seemed as much a part of it as the Aerie or the Quidditch Pitch,  
  
"Thank you," he said, leaning down to hug Olivia, who appeared to be on the verge of tears.  
  
Then he picked up his satchels again and surveyed his students one more time.  
  
At the far end of the hall Professor Dumbledore called to him: "Armando, the carriage has arrived." He appeared rather surprised to see the throng of students that surrounded the headmaster.  
  
"Of course," Dippet said in return.  
  
As the headmaster made his way down the corridor, the students moved with him almost as a vanguard, albeit a very disorganized one. They all followed him to the Entrance Hall and the great doors of the castle where Dippet turned and faced them, and Professor Dumbledore, again.  
  
"I mean to have you reinstated as soon as this foolishness blows over," vowed Dumbledore.  
  
"I'm sorry, Albus, but I don't think I will be coming back here ... unless it's to watch a Quidditch match," said Dippet with a warm smile. Looking at the Gryffindors standing just behind their head of house, he said, "Mister Potter, I'm leaving it up to you to see that Professor Dumbledore moves into the office and quarters of the headmaster and doesn't go on moping. By hook or by crook, see to that."  
  
"Yes, sir," said William with a firm nod.  
  
"Thank you, Armando," said Dumbledore.  
  
"You are quite welcome, headmaster," he replied with a smile before he turned and departed from the castle.  
  
They returned to the Aerie with the crowd of Ravenclaws who were going that way too as it was approaching curfew and many of them needed to pack their belongings for the trip home the following morning. Olivia looked at her house mates and saw that they also bore a dejected look. It was difficult, she reasoned, losing one of their own, more so than it would have been if Dippet had been from another house.  
  
"Dumbledore will do a good job," said Sophia in low voice as they walked. The tone of her voice said that she was trying to convince herself too.  
  
"Of course," agreed Olivia without enthusiasm, hesitating a sidelong glance at Martin.  
  
"You don't have to say that," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes.  
  
"He's right. You don't have to say it," agreed Sissy.  
  
"Things will probably change," said Corinna. "Dumbledore is supposed to be very progressive and pro-Muggle, isn't he?" she asked, wondering if Martin would answer.  
  
"Yes," he replied succinctly.  
  
"And Dippet wasn't? There's a record number of muggle-born and half-and-half students here right now, not to mention a vampire attending special classes at night," said Sissy a bit defensively.  
  
"But the curriculums for the classes haven't changed significantly in almost fifty years," Sophia pointed out.  
  
"I thought you liked Professor Dippet," said Olivia accusingly.  
  
"I did, and I still do. I was only trying to look on the bright side ..." muttered Sophia.  
  
"Stop it," said Sissy evenly, effectively ending the conversation.  
  
The next morning found the five of them gathered near the bottom of the castle stairs as everyone who was going home was assembling there to take carriages to the train station and the waiting Hogwarts Express. Snow blanketed the grounds around them, turning everything a pristine white.  
  
"You will be sure to send us an owl if anything happens?" asked Sophia, pulling her scarf around her face to keep the cold off.  
  
"Of course we will," said Sissy with an unpleasant look.  
  
"And if you know anything ..." Martin said anxiously to Corinna.  
  
"I will do my best," she nodded, "but if I'm so far away, I don't know if I'll get any premonitions about what's happening or going to happen here."  
  
Corinna did not want to mention that sending owls while in the Muggle world, where she would spend at least some of the holidays, was difficult, especially since her family didn't own an owl at present.  
  
"I'll see to it that Zubin makes his rounds," said Sissy, who knew the most about Corinna's situation, despite the fact that she was from a very old pureblooded family herself.  
  
"Thanks," said Corinna with a sheepish smile.  
  
"He'll be making deliveries anyhow," Sissy shrugged, tucking her hands into her sleeves for warmth.  
  
"I'm going to miss all of you," said Sophia in a muffled voice, "but after this term ... I really want to see my mum and dad again."  
  
Martin felt a twinge of jealousy and longing. He wanted to see his mother more than anything in the world.  
  
"Me too," said Corinna quietly.  
  
As the carriages arrived, Sophia glanced over her shoulder before telling Martin, Sissy, and Olivia, "Do be careful while we're away."  
  
"Of course," said Sissy with a slight sneer.  
  
Then they all said their farewells before Sophia and Corinna went to the waiting carriages, which were quickly filling with students, leaving only a handful on the stairs. These soon returned to the warm indoors and went to have breakfast in the now very quiet Great Hall.

* * *

A/N: And with that, the quintet splits up for the holidays.  
  
HMT: You're welcome! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
mirkwoodmage: Thank you for the review!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reviewing!  
  



	37. is a dangerous thing

Chapter Thirty-seven  
  
... is a dangerous thing  
  
The first few days of the Christmas holidays found Sissy in the library, doing research that she had been reluctantly putting off for sometime. She would have given anything to have Sophia with her while researching the Acromantula, the giant spiders that lived in the forest, as her friend was quite knowledgeable on the subject of magical creatures, especially the local ones. Sissy was rather repulsed by the subject herself, but she knew that Sophia would be very good at it next year when she had the option of taking the course, which she was certain Sophia would. Nevertheless, Sissy had to do without such assistance as she searched for a book on the giant spiders.   
  
Martin and Olivia had offered to help, but she had declined as she did not wish to explain exactly what she was researching, and why, and did not believe they could assist her in a meaningful way. They were very dear to her, but neither were especially interested in this area of study. They also had not completed the first piece of _written_ homework Professor Knowles had assigned since he had become blind, which would be due following the holidays. Sissy had completed it days earlier with little difficulty.  
  
Of course, it was Professor Knowles and what had happened to him all those weeks ago that had brought Sissy to the library. Something had begun to feel wrong about his explanation for the cause of his blindness. The spiders? She could not understand precisely how they had blinded him without either clawing his eyes or poisoning him. From what she knew, neither was the case. How then had he come to be so injured as to lose his sight? That question was the one to which she diligently, albeit somewhat belatedly, sought the answer.  
  
And in the books on the Acromantula, she found information enough to answer that question. There were no reported cases of blindness caused by the spiders. Maulings and other unpleasant things a-plenty, but nothing that could give her a clue as to what had happened to Knowles. That knowledge nourished a seed of doubt that had been growing for a while.  
  
She also considered the unfriendly centaurs for a moment, but doubted that had they chosen to inflict such an injury upon a human, that that injury would have been as Knowles' were -- without substantial bruising or ugly wounds to his face. Knowles had been wounded, yes, but not in a manner one would expect; the centaurs, after all, were not known for their tenderness nor their moderation, but for their ferocity.  
  
"More questions raised than answered," murmured Sissy as she returned the used volumes to the shelves.  
  
She had the nagging feeling that she was missing something, but she could not put her finger on it and the hour was growing late.  
  
Sissy tossed and turned for a long time that night while Olivia ground her teeth in relative peace. Something tugged at the edge of her mind like a thought, a realization that she simply could not grasp not matter how hard she tried. This thought remained elusive for many hours until she became drowsy, but just before her eyes closed in sleep, she realized what was troubling her.  
  
"Corinna's vision," she whispered, suddenly fully awake again with her heart pounding in her ears.  
  
Corinna had described the vision of Professor Somerville for all of them in great detail; however, Sissy had paid less than rapt attention to the minutia found therein. But now she knew that there was something interesting, beyond interesting even, in what had been seen by her friend: the blood that had come from Somerville's eyes as he had practiced Legilimency on himself.  
  
Sissy frowned as she sat up in bed. When Knowles had first been brought back to the castle after his misadventure in the forest, his eyes had oozed blood. What if her professor had been blinded by the vampire's use of Legilimency on him? The gruesome thought unnerved her, but seemed to make sense.  
  
There was just one problem; Knowles had said that he had not encountered the vampire directly, ergo it could not have Legilimenced him as such things could not be done from a distance and required eye contact, unless she was much mistaken in her thinking. All of the clues added up, except that one.  
  
She shook her head and started to lie down again, but knew that she would be unable to sleep until she knew more about the art of Legilimency and could further theorize on what had happened in the forest. Parting the curtains, she glanced toward Olivia's bed and shook her head.  
  
"I must be mad to think of going out tonight ... when the castle is nearly deserted ... with no prefects left to patrol the corridors ... a crazed vampire on the loose ... only a shoddy, half-baked theory to guide me in my research ..." she thought to herself.  
  
And morning was only a few scant hours away ...  
  
Then a spark of indignation kindled in her heart on her professor's behalf. If the vampire had used its skills upon him, then it had violated him in a terrible way that not only robbed him of his sight and potentially distorted the contents of his own mind, but had left no discernible trace to tell its victim what had been done to him. Sissy clenched her fists angrily.  
  
"That won't do at all," she muttered darkly, climbing from bed and taking up her wand and robes.  
  
"Olivia?" she called in a clear voice.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I'm going out," she announced.  
  
"You're what?" asked Olivia groggily.  
  
"I'm just going to slip down to the library for a bit," she said with an almost audible sneer. She meant to have Olivia with her as two were better than one in such an admittedly ill-conceived venture. And she reckoned that Olivia still owed her one.  
  
"You're mad! Do you remember what happened when I did that?" questioned Olivia, clambering noisily from her bed.  
  
"Ah, but I am handier with a wand," Sissy reminded her.  
  
"Don't, Sissy ..." whined Olivia.  
  
"It is ... a matter of duty," said Sissy with a note of finality in her voice.  
  
"Then ... then I guess I should come too. Safety in numbers, right?" asked Olivia, trying to manage a bit of pluck, but only giving the impression of fear and doubt.  
  
"That's what they tell us," said Sissy, lighting a lamp. "You'll need robes and your wand," she added coolly.  
  
Olivia didn't understand how on earth she managed it.  
  
If Olivia had been asked to figure the odds of Martin waiting for them in the common room, and dressed to wander the castle, no less, she would have said that the odds were infinitesimally small.  
  
Nevertheless, he was lounging on the couch and fiddling with a piece of parchment when they descended the stairs leading from their dormitory. He looked over his shoulder with a less than amused expression as they paused and stared at him.  
  
"You know, Corinna owled me tonight and said that you two were going to be up to something. I was almost certain she was wrong. I must remember to believe Corinna's weird predictions more often," he told them, standing and stretching. "Zubin brought this," he added, giving Sissy the parchment scrap.  
  
She narrowed her eyes and read, "_Dear Martin, Sissy and Olivia will be leaving the Aerie around a quarter till two in the morning. I don't know what they have in mind, but you may or may not want to go with them. Love, Corinna._"  
  
"She doesn't say there's going to be any trouble," Olivia pointed out.  
  
"No," he said, "but I doubt she would have bothered unless something was going to happen."  
  
"You haven't even asked where we're going," said Sissy, returning the parchment to its rightful owner.  
  
"It doesn't matter to me," he shrugged, "but I'm guessing that it's the library or something."  
  
"Shrewd guess," complimented Sissy with an arched eyebrow.  
  
"So you're coming with us?" asked Olivia.  
  
"Of course," he nodded with a stern expression, "unless you've changed your minds."  
  
"I haven't," said Sissy, stepping toward the portrait hole.  
  
"Wait," said Martin. "I think we should have ... a strategy for if something goes wrong."  
  
"Sensible," acknowledged Sissy as she paused.  
  
"If we take the long way around, we would be close to Uncle Alastor's rooms at the mid-point of our journey, that way if anything happens, we could duck in there to avoid ... trouble," he said. "I had some time to think about this while I waited," he added as the girls stared at him for a moment.  
  
"All right then. The halls should be empty tonight, so stealth would be pointless anyhow," shrugged Sissy.  
  
"Wands drawn?" asked Olivia, fumbling nervously for her own.  
  
"Why not?" said Sissy, taking hers from where it was nestled in her sleeve.  
  
Despite, or perhaps because of, Martin's elaborate strategizing, they managed to walk all the way from the Aerie, past the softly snoring portrait of _Gentleman in his Study_, down many flights of stairs, and through a number of dim and silent corridors without attracting any attention whatsoever. Not even a ghost nor meddlesome Peeves, who was busy with minor mayhem in the dungeons, spotted them as they made their way to the library.   
  
Oddly enough, this only made them more nervous ... except unflappable Sissy who rarely seemed nervous at all. Martin and Olivia could only admire her as she began calmly lighting the library lamps so she would not strain her eyes by attempting to read in the dark. That required quite a bit of nerve on her part.  
  
"So what are we here for?" asked Martin, keeping his voice low.  
  
"Legilimency," Sissy answered as she disappeared among the stacks.  
  
Martin gave Olivia an odd look, as though to ask her what Sissy was thinking, and she replied with a shrug and a roll of her eyes.  
  
"And why are you so interested in Legilimency at this time of night?" asked Martin as he followed Sissy.  
  
"Morning," corrected Olivia with a yawn.  
  
"Because the vampire is a Legilimencer ..." she answered as she began her search. "If you want to help, go check over near the Divinations' books while I check the section on defense and sorcery," Sissy instructed, not knowing precisely where such books were kept. She had never required one before.  
  
"Right," said Martin with a bit of a sigh before he trudged off to the other side of the library with Olivia.  
  
Sissy began her search very methodically, scouring that section of the library shelf by shelf in hopes of finding a text dedicated to Legilimency, but she had visited the defense shelves so many times the year before without seeing a book on the topic that she doubted it would be so simple. The subject, to the best of her knowledge, had not been taught at Hogwarts in fifty-eight years, which would not make finding books on it any easier.  
  
"Jinxes, hexes, charms for defense ..." she murmured as she moved along the shelves. For once these tomes held no fascination for her.  
  
Supposedly there was a rhyme and reason to the organization of the Hogwarts' library; however, Sissy had yet to completely unravel its mystery. And in that she was by no means alone as several of the younger professors were still baffled. Of course, this certainly hindered her in her research, much to her frustration.  
  
After much searching, Sissy found herself wandering close to the minor Dark Arts section, which contained many more historical texts than ones for practical application. The best books on sorcery and so forth were, as everyone knew, in the Restricted Section, but there were still many useful things found among the regular books. This included _A Contemporary Guide to the Arts of Legilimency and Occlumency_.   
  
The volume was very dusty and remarkably slender for one on such an interesting topic. Sissy flipped through a few pages and decided that it might do for her purposes. And if not, she would consider consulting a magical malady text, which was another task for which she truly wished that she had Sophia's assistance. Quite invaluable, that girl.  
  
Sissy took a seat at a small table at the end of a row of shelves and opened the book.  
  
"Found something?" interrupted Martin.  
  
She held up the book so that he could see it.  
  
"Perhaps," she answered as he read the title.  
  
"Who wrote it?" asked Olivia curiously as she sat down heavily across the table.  
  
Sissy had not bothered to look, and the leathern volume was thickly coated with dust from many years of disuse.  
  
"Christoph Somerville," she read from the inside of the cover.  
  
Sissy very nearly dropped it. In fact, she unconsciously handled it a bit more gingerly after having the read the name of the author.  
  
"He does get around," she commented unhappily.  
  
"You don't think it's dangerous ... do you?" asked Martin anxiously.  
  
"If it were, then it would be locked up back there with all of the other _supposedly_ dangerous books," said Sissy, nodding vaguely toward the Restricted Section of the library.  
  
"It's still rather creepy," said Olivia as Sissy flipped the pages.  
  
"Quite," Sissy agreed, turning her full attention to the book in front of her. "Quite creepy indeed," she murmured to herself.  
  
Martin had fallen asleep with his head resting on the table and Olivia was dozing in her chair when Sissy set the book down with a loud thud on the table. She had a grim but satisfied look on her face as she stood up and stretched. Martin yawned and blinked as he woke up. Olivia leaned forward in her chair.  
  
"Well?" Olivia asked.  
  
"I've found the answer to my question," said Sissy. She gestured to the open pages of the book.  
  
"About time," said Olivia with a slight smile. They had been in the library for the better part of an hour.  
  
"Patience," said Sissy with a sneer, turning the book toward Olivia and Martin so that they could see.   
  
She wanted them to take an unbiased look at what she had found. She trusted her own judgment well enough, but since they were there, she thought it wise to see what they thought too.  
  
"Read here and here," said Sissy, pointing to two paragraphs.  
  
"Couldn't you summarize," yawned Olivia, squinting at the tiny print on the page.  
  
Sissy merely arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
Martin, having not bothered to attempt to talk his way out of reading, finished first and looked up at Sissy with amazement on his face.  
  
"Professor Knowles?" he asked.  
  
"It doesn't say blindness, only 'burst capillaries' caused by the extreme strain and duress that intense Legilimency can inflict upon a person with no defenses to it," said Sissy calmly, "but, of course, we all saw him when he was brought back from the forest. There is the real possibility that his was exhibiting that symptom whether it _caused_ his blindness or not. I don't think I'm qualified to say."  
  
"I think we ought to show this to someone ..." said Olivia, who had turned a shade paler than normal.  
  
"Quite right," agreed Sissy. "Martin, do you think your father would take this matter seriously?"  
  
"Yes," he nodded.  
  
"Will he be available tomorrow?" she questioned.  
  
"Of course. He's on holiday too, now isn't he?" replied Martin. "We'll drop by his office sometime after breakfast. I'm sure he won't mind."  
  
Sissy nodded and looked down at the book again. She had expected to feel better. She had expected that finding out what she had about Legilimency, and becoming a step closer to proving her theory, would somehow assuage the lingering ache she felt whenever she thought of Knowles, that it would make everything all right again. But it had done nothing of the kind. Nothing was changed nor would it be. She had merely added a few more scraps of knowledge to her ever-growing collection and raised more questions in the process.  
  
Now she was only tired and more aware of the disconsolate feeling in her chest that had been growing ever since she had realized that something was amiss. She closed the book and ran her hand over its cover.  
  
"Funny that he should leave us this. That it should be his own words that potentially help us to reveal his deeds of ignominy," she said quietly, tracing the author's name with her fingertip.  
  
"Ironic," said Olivia, "if you're right about this."  
  
"I think I am," said Sissy without even a trace of boasting in her voice.  
  
"So do I," said Martin with a very grim frown, "but if it's all the same to you two, I think we should get back to the dormitories. We're tempting fate as it is."  
  
"Of course," Sissy nodded in agreement.  
  
After extinguishing the lamps in the library, the trio departed quietly and began the tedious trek back to the Aerie. Martin and Olivia were nearly asleep on their feet despite the startling revelations they had received concerning the former Legilimency-Occlumency professor the current professor of defense. But Martin understood now why his father was reluctant to use his 'gift', or at least the Legilimency portion of it. Such things were obviously very dangerous tools in the hands of the wrong sort of person, like the vampire.  
  
Sissy was tired too, of course, but the wheels of her mind were still turning just as rapidly as they had been earlier as she digested all that she had learned. She could hardly wait to share her theory with Professor Dumbledore, a wizard who possessed the skills in question. While never one of her favorite instructors, as Sissy did not think he took teaching seriously enough, she still respected the opinion of the professor in a matter such as this.  
  
Then a horrible thought occurred to her, nearly stopping her in her tracks. Professor Knowles would need to be informed too. How would he take learning that he had somehow, without even his knowledge, been Legilimenced and blinded by none other than the vampire? She did not think it would go over well.  
  
"And I should be the one to tell him, shouldn't I?" she asked herself silently. "I was the one who got into this, started poking around where perhaps I should not have. It's my responsibility now ..."  
  
Her shoulders slumped as she felt the weight of that self-imposed burden, making her feel very weary indeed.  
  
But then something jarred Sissy from her brooding: a muttering voice in the corridor ahead of them, just around a corner. All three of them froze, not knowing what to do.  
  
"Back the way we came!" hissed Sissy as she recovered her wits. She was the first to do so. "Back!" she ordered again.  
  
Despite the fact that Sissy had not spoken very loudly, she felt certain that the mutterer had heard her as the voice stopped abruptly. She grabbed Olivia by the arm and began pulling her down the long, dark corridor as quickly as possible. There was nowhere to hide that she could see unless they reached the stairs and went either up toward the Owlery or back down toward the library. She knew they could not do either before they were seen.  
  
Martin was lagging behind the two girls as they raced for the stairs. He simply couldn't keep up because his legs were much shorter than Sissy's and he was not being forcibly dragged along like Olivia. So it should have been no surprise that when their pursuer shouted '_Stupefy_!' that Martin was the one hit by the spell and sent crashing to the floor face-first.  
  
Sissy looked over her shoulder to see a figure with a raised wand running hurriedly down the corridor and Martin's prone form about halfway between them and the assailant. She took a deep breath, released Olivia, and drew her wand before starting back, intent upon defending Martin in any way she could.  
  
Olivia hesitated before following her, wanting nothing more than to continue the sprint for the stairs and safety. But she could not leave Sissy to face the enemy alone nor Martin in mortal peril. And besides, two was almost always better than one in a fight.  
  
Lifting her wand, Sissy wracked her brain for the best spell to keep the shadowy figure at bay and was about to attempt a hurling hex when the figure, who had ceased running, called out to her: "Stand down, Miss Howard. It's only me."  
  
Sissy faltered as she recognized the gruff voice.  
  
"Mister Moody?" she questioned hesitantly, panting for breath as she slowed her steps too.  
  
With a flick of his wand he lit a torch that hung upon the wall nearby, illuminating all four of them in its orange glow.  
  
"Sweet Merlin," he said, rubbing his jaw and kneeling on the floor with Martin, "what've I done?"  
  
"You stunned him," stammered Olivia. There was a hint of both incredulity and accusation in her voice.  
  
"Yes, that I did," said Moody quietly, turning Martin onto his back and whispering, "_Ennervate_!"  
  
Martin awoke with a groan and immediately rubbed his face. Sissy imagined that it was going to bruise as he had hit the floor rather hard.  
  
"Ouch," he said with a bit of a glare that he directed at Alastor, whose voice he had recognized when he had cast the Stunning Spell.  
  
"I'm sorry, laddie. You've got to believe that," he said, helping Martin into a sitting position and examining his face with careful hands. There was worry in his dark eyes.  
  
"I should have ran faster," said Martin with a wince.  
  
"Thought you were the vampire. I didn't realize there were three of you or I would have known better," said Alastor. "Does it hurt very much, laddie?" he asked.  
  
"Only a little," said Martin stubbornly.  
  
"Still, since I stunned you, we probably should go and see Madam Pomfrey," said Moody cautiously.  
  
"Then we'll get in trouble. Or at least I certainly will," said Martin in a dejected tone.  
  
Moody looked up at the girls, who were both staring at him with slightly wide eyes, and said, "I wouldn't want that."  
  
"Then just let us go back to the dormitory," said Sissy bluntly.  
  
Moody frowned. Admittedly, he didn't _want_ them to lose house points, but he needed to keep an eye on Martin to make sure he suffered no adverse effects from being stunned.  
  
"Why were you out in the first place?" he asked irritably, trying to shake of the twinge of guilt he felt for downing Martin with such a strong stunner.  
  
Sissy arched an eyebrow and decided to tell him the truth as she knew that Martin would do it if she chose to dissemble.  
  
"We needed to go to the library," she said coolly, deciding that was as much of the truth as he needed to know.  
  
"Merlin, lass! At three in the morning?"  
  
"It was only two o'clock when we left the common room," Sissy shrugged with a certain forced nonchalance.  
  
Alastor wanted to ask what could have been so important, but he could tell by the insouciant look in Miss Howard's eyes that she wasn't going to answer any more questions.  
  
"Martin, are there any boys in your year that might notice you've gone missing?" Alastor questioned, seeking a solution to their dilemma.  
  
"No, they all went home for the holidays," said Martin.  
  
Alastor didn't miss the half-wistful note in his voice. He knew Martin missed his mother. He couldn't fault the boy for that.  
  
"Then after we escort your friends back to the dormitories, you'll spend the night with me, so I can make sure I didn't hurt you," he said.  
  
"And you aren't going to inform our head of house or anything?" asked Sissy.  
  
"No," said Alastor, "but in the future I am hoping you think twice about breaking curfew."   
  
He had a feeling that they wouldn't, but the girls nodded dutifully nonetheless.

* * *

A/N: I tried to upload earlier, but the site wouldn't let me. Ugh.  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HMT: Yep, you'll just have to wait. Thanks for the review!  
  
Mirkwoodmage: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
silversea: This one's late due to technical problems. Sorry. Thanks for reviewing!  
  



	38. The new headmaster

Chapter Thirty-eight  
  
The new headmaster  
  
Martin spent that night sleeping on his uncle's couch. He had refused, albeit very politely, to sleep in the bedroom. His uncle snored. And knowing what he knew about Corinna's vision and the former professor who had resided therein, the bedroom of the apartment gave him the absolute creeps. Alastor had loaned him a nightshirt, after checking his back for burns, bruises, or other residual symptoms of a strong stunner. Luckily, there had been none, which gave Alastor peace of mind as he had felt a bit guilty about stunning Martin.  
  
In the morning Martin felt very stiff and sore, but his uncle put something in his tea to help that.  
  
"Old family recipe," Alastor muttered tiredly.   
  
He had been up much of the night patrolling the grounds, which was how he had found the three Ravenclaws, and had not slept much after the incident.  
  
"Are you going to tell my father?" asked Martin uneasily as he nursed his cup of tea.  
  
"No, but I'd appreciate it if you did, lad," said Alastor somberly.  
  
"Sissy and I are going to see him today, so I'll have my chance," he sighed.  
  
"The plot thickens," chuckled Alastor, helping himself to a piece of toast from their breakfast tray.   
  
They were having breakfast in his rooms so that Martin could slip back to the Aerie when all of the other students, only five not including the girls, had gone for their own morning meal. Martin had estimated that this would not be until after nine o'clock or so as the Ravenclaws slept in during the holidays.  
  
Martin blushed a little and said, "Sissy's got a ... a theory about the vampire and Legilimency and stuff."  
  
Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprised and allow his gaze to dart toward the other room. He wasn't certain how much Martin knew, but he knew enough to fear the creature that was once Christoph Somerville for reasons other than his vampirism. Moody was a little impressed.  
  
"Did she explain it to you?" he asked.  
  
"Mostly, yes," Martin nodded, "but I don't think I should say anything until we talk to my father."  
  
"Probably best," said Alastor, although his curiosity was certainly piqued. He considered having his own conversation with Albus later.  
  
"She will be expecting me soon," said Martin, glancing at the clock on the mantel, "and I wouldn't want to keep Sissy waiting."  
  
Alastor smiled a little and said, "I guess you can go then, laddie."  
  
"Thanks," said Martin with a half-smile as he left the couch a bit stiffly.  
  
"You can come back for more of my tea later," Alastor offered as Martin stretched.  
  
"I'll be fine," he said.  
  
Sissy was waiting in the common room when Martin arrived. He had the feeling that she had not eaten and had been waiting for sometime. Olivia was nowhere to be seen, but he knew her well enough to guess that she was already awake and about somewhere in the castle. If she was not at breakfast, then she was in the library.  
  
"I'll just go change," said Martin as Sissy leveled her gaze at him.  
  
"Please do," she said, looking at his rumpled robes in undisguised disgust.  
  
She watched him dash up the stairs and picked up the book she had been reading to occupy her time. It was an almost incomprehensible book on magical maladies designed for use, no doubt, by those who were apprenticed with Madam Pomfrey and not for younger students, even ones so bright as Sissy Howard. But the book had kept her entertained while she waited.  
  
Only a few minutes later Martin returned and she slipped the book into a pocket of her robes, despite the fact that it was uncomfortably heavy. She had plans to return it to the library sometime later, when everything else was done.  
  
"I suppose your father will be in his new office," she said.  
  
"Or the staff room, but we'll try there first," Martin agreed, combing his fingers through his messy curls.  
  
"And you are certain that he won't mind and that he will listen?" Sissy pressed.  
  
"Of course," Martin nodded as they stepped through the portrait hole. He could hear _Gentleman in his Study_ behind him making murmured comments about his still disheveled appearance.  
  
Professor Dumbledore was having a rather nice morning all in all before the impatient knocking at the door caused him to overturn his inkpot onto the letter he was writing. The Ministry owl perched on the corner of his desk ruffled its feathers in an irritated fashion and glared at Dumbledore. It had been waiting some time for him to pen his message and send it on its way. He gave the owl an apologetic look, vanished the spilled ink, and called for his visitor to enter.   
  
The new headmaster had yet to give gargoyle below a new password, but Dippet's _Shakespearean Sonnets_ was no longer valid as he had left the castle. Therefore, anyone could get into the office at the moment, and Dumbledore, still in the processing of moving his things into it, did not mind that so much.  
  
He was a little surprised when Sissy Howard and his son walked into the office. Dumbledore surmised that she had knocked.  
  
"What can I do for you?" he asked, signing his slightly smudged letter before folding it and giving it to the owl. The somewhat officious little bird immediately flew away with his reply.  
  
"Sissy ..." began Martin, groping for the best words, "wants to talk to you." He was certain those were not them. "About the vampire and some other things," he added hastily.  
  
Sissy shot a menacing look at Martin and his inarticulateness, which had very suddenly made her feel rather foolish as they approached his desk.  
  
"Me?" asked Dumbledore, wondering why the Ravenclaw had not gone to Flitwick with such concerns.  
  
"You are a Legilimencer, aren't you, professor?" asked Sissy.  
  
The headmaster had been in the process of leaving his chair, but paused as she asked her question. He looked over his glasses at Sissy and then at Martin. There was a trace of displeasure in his expression as he did so.  
  
"I have some knowledge of Legilimency, Miss Howard," answered Dumbledore.  
  
"And so does the vampire," she stated. Sissy suspected that the headmaster was down-playing his level of skill.  
  
"I believe that is a fair assumption," he replied as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He imagined that she knew the identity of the vampire quite well. He was impressed with her detective work.  
  
Sissy faltered and hesitated, not certain how to explain her theory. Martin nudged her.  
  
"Could the vampire, by using intense Legilimency on him, have blinded Professor Knowles?" she questioned.  
  
Dumbledore sat down in his chair and looked at Miss Howard very thoughtfully. He had considered something similar to this himself, but Cyrus had blamed the giant spiders of the forest for his condition.  
  
"Are you asking if it is merely possible?" he inquired.  
  
Sissy thought about that for a moment and said, "I ... I have reason to believe that Legilimency could cause bleeding from the eyes, sir, and I've read about the Acromantulas and don't believe they could have ... so I thought ... that perhaps the vampire had somehow ... tricked Professor Knowles and ... caused his loss of sight ... I don't know how to explain it."  
  
Dumbledore regarded her for a moment, reminding himself that she was only a second year student, despite the difficulty and complexity of the subject they were discussing, and barely thirteen years old as well. She was doing an admirable job for one so young.  
  
"I understand perfectly, Miss Howard, but Legilimency alone cannot alter memories; it can only sift through them, or at worst tear them from the mind before stuffing them back in again," he said.  
  
"A Memory Charm then?" asked Martin, who had only naturally been following the conversation, though such things were not by any means his cup of tea. In fact, the idea of 'tearing' and 'stuffing' made him feel just a bit ill.  
  
Both Sissy and Dumbledore looked at him, which made him color just a bit as he felt that he had said something wrong.  
  
"Of course, that would be a satisfactory answer to the contradiction posed here," said his father with a slow and thoughtful nod. He stroked his graying beard for a moment. "Yes, and quite difficult to detect unless one was looking for it," he added mostly to himself.  
  
"And rather simple," said Sissy.  
  
"Rather," Dumbledore agreed.  
  
"Then ... Professor Knowles should be informed," said Sissy, but there was a questioning look in her eyes.  
  
"Oh, most assuredly," said Dumbledore, "and should your hypothesis turn out to be correct, I imagine he will be much displeased and disconcerted to say the least, but very glad to have the information."  
  
"You'd be able to take the Memory Charm off, wouldn't you?" asked Sissy.  
  
"Quite easily, if Professor Knowles should wish it," he replied.  
  
Sissy shifted from one foot to the other in an uncharacteristic gesture of nervousness and anxiety.  
  
"I should very much like to ..." she began.  
  
But Dumbledore held up his hand and interrupted, "Miss Howard, I cannot give your permission for anything in this matter as it is most certainly not my place, but neither can I stop you from speaking with my young colleague."  
  
"I understand, sir," she said with a nod, "but as he was your student, could you perhaps advise me?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled and said, "His great secret is out, is it? Very well then. I suppose I can do that at least." He looked at Sissy for a moment. "You are rather young to be involved in things such as this," he said, glancing at his son and thinking, "and that goes double for you, my boy."  
  
"I am thirteen, sir," she said coolly.  
  
"Nevertheless ... If you have it in your mind to run to Professor Knowles and tell him all of this, be prepared for him not to believe you. That should be the case Memory Charm or no. He is rather proud," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Aren't all Gryffindors?"  
  
"Your point is well taken, but if you have not noticed this characteristic ..."  
  
"I have, sir, and it does not bother me in the least. Professor Knowles has a great deal to be proud of what with his war record and all."  
  
"That he does," Dumbledore sighed. "Just tread lightly, Miss Howard. That is my only advice to you. I will, of course, speak with him myself after I have given this more thought and consideration."  
  
"I should hope so, sir," said Sissy.  
  
Dumbledore thought about chastising her for her impertinence, but decided that it would do no good, and he rather admired it, especially in such a young and intelligent witch. His wife had been much he same way while in school. He was lucky that Martin had not received a greater share of that trait.  
  
"May I take my leave now, sir?" she questioned.  
  
"Certainly, Miss Howard," he said, having the peculiar feeling that she was indeed on her way to see Professor Knowles, which was a course of action that he felt was unwise at best.  
  
But he knew that Cyrus was her favorite professor, and that she had 'adopted' him as Ravenclaws were wont to do. He could hardly stop that, especially considering that he had been mentor to more students than he could count in his recently ended days of teaching, although a fair amount of them had been Gryffindors. His thoughts drifted to his wife, who had once been one such student, and he smiled as he watched Miss Howard leave.  
  
"You have my permission to go with her, of course," he told Martin, who was shuffling his feet uncomfortably.  
  
"Actually, I wanted to confess to an incident that happened last night, or rather early this morning," said Martin. His father gestured for him to take a seat. "I ... um, slipped out of the tower and got caught by Uncle Alastor," he admitted.  
  
"Did he hex you?" asked Dumbledore curiously.  
  
"Stunned," said Martin with a wince.  
  
"Ouch," said the headmaster, "I imagine that was punishment enough, although I am quite curious as to the reason why you were out, knowing how dangerous it is and so forth."  
  
"I went to the library for research," said Martin. The answer was as truthful as he dared be as by no means was he going to mention the girls' involvement in the incident.  
  
"I see ..." nodded Dumbledore. "I wish you wouldn't take such risks, Martin, and when your mother hears about this ..."  
  
"Mum? You're going to tell mum?" interjected Martin with widening eyes and a half-horrified expression.  
  
"A lecture from her might do you some good," his father replied with a smile.  
  
Martin was about to object when he realized what his father meant. A lecture implied that he would be seeing her soon.  
  
"She's coming here? For the holidays?" he asked quickly. A grin spread over his features as he forgot about the daunting prospect of one of her lectures.  
  
"In a manner of speaking," said Dumbledore.  
  
"When?" asked Martin, unable to contain his excitement.  
  
"She will be arriving tomorrow morning. She's taking a portkey from the London office," he said with a smile.  
  
"That's wonderful news!"  
  
"I'm glad you're pleased. She's quite anxious to see you after the ... exceptional time you've had of it so far this year."  
  
"Me too," laughed Martin, feeling much better than he had in ages.  
  
Sissy didn't want to admit it, but her head was spinning. She never liked being in less than perfect control of herself and her emotions, which was perhaps a trait leftover from living abroad in midst of a culture that she found annoying, dance lessons aside. She had never, for instance, lashed out at another student before coming to Hogwarts and meeting Astrophel Black.   
  
So as she walked down the empty corridors, rehearsing what she was going to tell Professor Knowles, she found herself feeling quite uncomfortable and out of sorts. Those feelings only intensified as she strode down the corridor where the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was located, supposing that Professor Knowles, who always stayed for holidays, would be there.   
  
She paused at the open classroom door to catch her breath and collect herself before facing Knowles, whom she immediately noticed was seated at his desk, running his fingertips over pieces of parchment. There was a look of intense concentration on his face. For the first time she was uncertain as to whether this was a good idea or not. Dumbledore's advice suddenly seemed rather sensible.  
  
"Miss Howard, either come inside and state your business or go. I don't like being watched," said Knowles irritably.  
  
"I'm sorry, professor," she stammered, stepping into the classroom. How he knew it was her was a mystery to Sissy. She fancied that it was only a lucky guess.  
  
He raised his head and looked annoyed as he took his hands from the parchment. "If you are hoping to turn in that assignment early, please refrain from doing so as I have not worked out a filing system yet," he said.  
  
"I've finished it, of course, but that isn't why I'm here," she said.   
  
Her voice rose an octave, betraying her nervousness to the very perceptive professor. Knowles furrowed his brow and arranged the parchments in a systematic fashion before leaving his desk.  
  
"Are you quite all right, Miss Howard?" he asked with a barely detectable note of concern in his voice. It was not wasted on Sissy.  
  
"Never better, sir," she responded glibly. "In fact I've been doing some very interesting research in the library that I would like to share with you," she added, standing ramrod straight as she spoke and trying to gain confidence from that posture.  
  
Knowles leaned against the front of his desk and gestured for her to continue, fascinated that she would choose to come to him, during the holidays no less, with research of some kind. The truth be known, he was not a patient man nor inclined to indulging the whims of others, but something about this struck his fancy. Perhaps because it was Miss Howard, his best student, who had come to him.  
  
"Please, go on," he said after a moment.  
  
Summoning her nerve, which had always been considerable for a Ravenclaw, she said, "I trust you are aware that the vampire is a Legilimencer."  
  
"That fact was recently brought to my attention," he acknowledged a bit stiffly, becoming perhaps more guarded in his own posture and expression.  
  
"I believe that I know what happened, sir, when you were in the forest. It wasn't the spiders, or at least I don't think so. It was the vampire," she told him.  
  
He looked at her blankly and asked, "That caused my blindness, you mean?"  
  
"Yes," she nodded.  
  
"That is quite impossible as I failed to catch up with it in the forest that night. It managed to stay well ahead of me and hidden from sight. Therefore there are two problems with your argument. Firstly, I was not in close enough contact with it for it to perform Legilimency on me. Secondly, even the extreme use of the skill has not, to the best of my knowledge, been known to cause permanent blindness, only minor and very temporary injury. You are quite wrong, Miss Howard." he explained very crisply.  
  
"But the spiders could not have been the cause either. I researched ..."  
  
"Miss Howard, I am certain that you did research the matter as it is not in your nature to produce wild and implausible theories; however, I was present during the actual incident, and I insist rather emphatically that the Acromantula can cause blindness if so inclined," he interrupted.  
  
Sissy frowned and said, "I do not feel that it is my place to dispute that ..."  
  
"Good, because it isn't!" snorted Knowles.  
  
"But if the vampire had modified your memory to cover its tracks ..."  
  
"Then it would still have needed some other method by which to render me blind. Legilimency alone would not suffice," said Knowles loudly, losing his temper, which was not a frequent occurrence.  
  
Sissy was quiet for a moment as her stomach knotted at the implication of his statement, which was too horrible to contemplate.  
  
"I am sorry, sir, for disturbing you," she said, clearing her throat and attempting to sound completely calm.  
  
"Not at all. I'm sure you learned a lot through your exploration of this matter. About Acromantulas and whatnot," he replied.  
  
"I did," she acknowledged. "It was very educational."  
  
"At least you aren't wasting your holidays then," he commented, moving slowly back to his seat behind the desk. "Good afternoon, Miss Howard," he said, returning to his work.  
  
She only stared at him for a moment, wondering if she should tell him that Dumbledore was going to be paying him a visit ... eventually, before shaking her head and departing. Some things were best left alone. Some people too, she supposed.

* * *

A/N: Not a lot of action in this one, but some important plot stuff nonetheless.  
  
silversea: Occlumency is defensive; legilimency is offensive. Two sides of a coin, I suppose. You would attack someone with legilimency, and defend yourself with occulmency. Thanks for the review!  
  
Heero Tomoe: I would love to beta for you, but I'm writing a thesis proposal at the moment, and it is killing me. If you still need someone in the fall, check back and I'll see what I can do. Sorry. I really appreciate the detailed reviews. A lot of the stuff you mentioned was very helpful. Thank you very much!  
  
halfblood princess: Thank you for reviewing!  
  



	39. Let it snow

Chapter Thirty-nine  
  
Let it snow  
  
Late afternoon had come with a fresh blanket of powdery snow covering the ground before the three remaining friends found themselves together again, lounging in front of a cheery fire in the common room. Martin had been outside with the other first years, who were mostly Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors and rather easy to get on with, for most of the afternoon. He was still in high-spirits from the news that his mum would be spending Christmas at Hogwarts with his father, his uncle, and himself. Olivia was rather listless and still working on her defense assignment, scrawling unevenly on a piece of parchment. Sissy was observing this and giving her pointers, chiefly on her penmanship, which Olivia found both unwanted and distracting.  
  
"Surely you aren't going to hand _that_ in?" Sissy questioned.  
  
"No, I'm only taking notes," said Olivia a bit sharply as was actually considering tidying the mess up a bit and doing exactly that. It wasn't as though the professor would really be able to see her handwriting anyway.  
  
"Good then," said Sissy, rearranging the dark blue throw around her shoulders.  
  
"We aren't going to sit here all afternoon, are we?" asked Martin, whose nose was still a bit red from being out of doors for so long.  
  
"Supper is in an hour and a half," Olivia pointed out.  
  
"You two haven't gone outside in days! And the weather's perfect," he objected.  
  
"The temperature is sub-zero," said Sissy, looking over her shoulder and out the window. A few flakes of snow were falling intermittently.  
  
"But we could all bundle up and build a snowman together!" said Martin.  
  
"Conserve your energy," suggested Sissy as she watched him bounce in his seat. "If your mum's coming tomorrow, you shouldn't tire yourself out."  
  
Olivia giggled as Martin stopped shaking the couch they were sharing.  
  
"Sensible," she said, "but not very much fun."  
  
"You know how I feel about the matter already," said Sissy coldly.  
  
"Well, if Sophia and I couldn't convince you to go sledding last year, then what hope have Martin and I this year?" asked Olivia with a sigh as she began gathering up her things.  
  
"So we'll build a snowman?" asked Martin.  
  
"Just let me bundle up first," she told him with a smile.  
  
Sissy rolled her eyes and went back to staring into the fire and brooding.  
  
Olivia smiled when she walked down the front steps of the school with Martin and saw that most of their fellow students, not to mention a few of the younger professors, were still out in the snow. Professor Sprout, for instance, was surrounded by Hufflepuffs and apparently organizing a snowball fight between them and the Gryffindors, who were fewer in number, but for the most part older. Olivia noticed that Arthur Weasley was seated on a fallen log while his friend Molly Prewett was in midst of the group of Gryffindors, the leader of whom appeared to be a somewhat unwilling Professor Vector.  
  
"You want to know what I heard in the library today?" asked Olivia quietly, nodding toward Weasley in a very covert manner.  
  
"Sure," said Martin with a shrug.  
  
"Three nights ago Pringle caught Weasley out after hours ... around four in the morning on his way back to the dormitories or something. Merlin knows what he was doing out so late, but the old man beat him nearly within an inch of his life. Weasley just got let out of the hospital wing today," said Olivia in a low voice.  
  
"I can't believe father would allow ..." Martin began.  
  
"Of course he wouldn't. Pringle left the castle this morning with all of his things. I guess that Filch is the caretaker now. I can't say it's much of an improvement, but ... we'll take what we can get, right?" asked Olivia with half-grin.  
  
Martin looked over at Weasley, who was watching the younger children and Molly with a smile on his face, and nodded. The red-headed young man looked a bit peaky, but happy. Martin supposed that he had heard the good news too.  
  
"Good riddance," he mumbled to himself.  
  
"I suggest we build our snowman well away from the battlefield," suggested Olivia after a moment.   
  
The Lions and Badgers were going at it full force, despite the occasional warning from Vector, who simply did not have the same sense of fun as her much younger colleague.  
  
Martin stepped back from the nearly completed snowman and brushed the excess snow from his gloves with a wide smile. It had required the better part of an hour, but it was well worth it in Martin's opinion. Across the grounds the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were still frolicking, although the teachers had mostly retreated indoors due to the cold.  
  
Olivia was still trying to transfigure a couple of stones into pieces of coal for the eyes, but meeting with little success. She wanted the snowman to look a bit more traditional as he had a branch for a mouth, turned so that he was smiling, and a large bit of bark for his nose.  
  
"You try it," she suggested, handing the stones to Martin.  
  
"But they're just fine as they are," he said, reaching to put them in place.  
  
"If you say so," Olivia shrugged, putting a gloved hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling at Martin.  
  
The snowman was so large that he had to stand on tip-toe to do it. They had put their enormous creation together using levitation spells, which had come in awfully handy in the task.  
  
"Looks good," said Olivia, nudging him as he came to stand back and admire it with her.  
  
"And it was fun," he chuckled.  
  
"Very," she agreed, "but I wish Sissy could see it."   
  
Olivia glanced toward Ravenclaw Tower high above them and wondered if Sissy would trouble herself to look out the window. She just shook her head. Sissy, she imagined, was still upset, although Olivia could hardly understand why.  
  
"She proved her point though, didn't she?" thought Olivia. But then, she did not understand Sissy nearly as well as she understood Sophia, Corinna, or even Martin. She doubted that any of them did. Sissy was like a closed book sometimes.  
  
"I suppose we ..." Martin began to say, but an explosion interrupted him and sent both Olivia and him tumbling back into the snow.  
  
When Martin opened his eyes, the snowman was gone, leaving only a lump of snow and slush where it had stood. The rest of it covered Olivia and him. Mean laughter caused him to raise his eyes. He found himself staring up at Flint and Bulstrode, the latter of whom had his wand drawn. Martin scrambled to his feet, trying to find his wand within his damp, snow-covered robes.  
  
"I wouldn't bother, Dumbledore. We aren't here to duel. We just wanted to warn you to stay away from our friend Black after the hols. We don't appreciate what the lot of you have done to him this term," said Flint in a low growl.  
  
"Us? What about him? He started it!" said Martin sharply, still trying to find his wand. He didn't happen to notice it lying behind him in the snow.  
  
"Yeah!" agreed Olivia, who was frantically wiping the snow from her face and sputtering a bit. Some of the stuff had got in her mouth. She was in no position to go for her wand either.  
  
Bulstrode and Flint exchanged smug and malevolent looks, and Flint drew his wand from a handy pocket.  
  
"Then maybe you need a harder lesson," said Flint.  
  
Martin immediately stepped in front of Olivia, who was scrambling to her feet, and tried to think of something he could do to stop two older and much larger students from doing anything particularly bad to them. Everything that came to mind required a wand.  
  
"Flint," called a somewhat familiar voice from behind the pair, "I'd think twice about that if I were you."  
  
Flint started and turned, as did Bulstrode, but both boys lowered their wands slightly.  
  
"What's it to you, Weasley?" asked Flint. "They aren't even in your house."  
  
Martin peered around them to see Arthur Weasley standing there with his wand in hand, although he wasn't pointing it at Bulstrode or Flint. He looked a bit wobbly, but very determined nonetheless. Martin could hardly understand why Weasley would trouble to defend them, but then he remembered that his father was his head of house and that Weasley only naturally had Gryffindor instincts. At that moment Martin was particularly grateful for those instincts.  
  
"I'm just taking an interest in them," said Weasley, raising his wand a bit in a gesture meant to ward off any ideas Flint and Bulstrode might have about taking on an older student.  
  
"So are we," said Flint, inclining his chin.  
  
"Then we're at an impasse, Flint," said Weasley.  
  
Of course, by this time Olivia had managed to get her wand out, although Martin was still woefully without. The odds were very nearly even given the fact that Arthur was a fifth year.  
  
"There's no teachers around," muttered Bulstrode quietly, "nor any prefects."  
  
For a tense moment Martin was certain they were going to attack Weasley, but then Flint glanced over his shoulder at bristling Olivia, who, though not very good at defense, looked very fierce at that particular moment. He realized that Bulstrode and himself were unpleasantly caught between their foes. That seemed to make him lose his nerve.  
  
"You can't protect them all the time. No one can, Weasley," said Flint before pushing past the Gryffindor. Bulstrode followed as they walked away.  
  
"Thanks," said Martin.  
  
"Your wand's on the ground," Weasley pointed out, watching the two Slytherins make their way back toward the castle.  
  
"Right," said Martin as he spotted it and picked it up. He wiped it off on his robes.  
  
"Why'd you help us?" asked Olivia.  
  
Arthur shrugged and said, "Seemed like the thing to do. Sorry about that snowman though. I think they hit it with a Reductor spell."  
  
Olivia turned her attention to the remains of their creation and sighed.  
  
"We could always build another one," said Martin unenthusiastically.  
  
"Maybe tomorrow," said Olivia with a shrug.  
  
Arthur smiled and said, "The holidays are only half over. You'll have another chance."  
  
"Arthur!" called a slightly shrill voice from the other side of the grounds where the snowball fight had finally found its conclusion. It was Molly Prewett, whom some people considered Arthur's girlfriend.  
  
Arthur winced and yelled, "Over here!"  
  
Molly jogged over to them and shook her finger at Arthur.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey specifically said for you to stay off your feet and try to rest. Are you resting? You don't look like you're resting to me, Arthur."  
  
"Er, I was just trying to help these kids out, Molly," he said apologetically. "There were some Slytherins bothering them," he added.  
  
Molly made a tutting noise as she turned her attention toward Olivia and Martin.  
  
"Must have been that Flint and Bulstrode. Not many of them stayed for the holidays," she said. There was a rather disappointed look in her eyes as though Prewett had wanted to go home, but couldn't manage it.  
  
Arthur patted her shoulder in a consoling manner, but said nothing.  
  
"We've had some problems with them and Black this year," Olivia told Molly.  
  
"Oh, who hasn't? I mean, among you younger ones. But I think Black will be minding himself for the rest of the year," said Molly.  
  
"Almost makes me wish Pringle wasn't sacked though," said Arthur. "There's nothing to threaten Black with now short of expulsion," he added.  
  
"I still wouldn't call it very much of a loss," said Molly a bit crossly.  
  
"You know what I meant," said Arthur.  
  
Olivia and Martin exchanged a smile at their behavior. They were just like an old married couple. According to their housemates, the pair had been close since coming to Hogwarts.  
  
"Anyway, thanks again, Weasley," said Martin, taking advantage of the momentary lull in the squabbling. "I think we ought to return to the castle now. It isn't long until supper and curfew," he added, glancing at Olivia, who was nodding in agreement.  
  
"Of course, run along," said Molly with a smile.  
  
Martin tossed and turned restlessly in his empty dormitory that night. He hated to admit it, but he missed the usual noise of the other boys who lived with him. It was oddly comforting not being alone, especially since he had become on better terms with his roommates. But since they had all gone home to their families for the Yuletide, the room seemed darker and less hospitable at night. Even Wainwright's snoring would have been welcome.  
  
And, of course, that particular night there was the problem of anticipation. He could hardly wait to see his mum in the morning. Martin was planning to get up extra early to see her. If only he could get some sleep in the meantime ...  
  
Midnight was approaching when he gave up and threw on a house coat. Sitting in the dimly lit common room by the fire was as good of a cure for insomnia as anything. Warm milk would have been nice too. And a good book that had nothing to do with school. Maybe even an adventure story.  
  
Martin sighed as he crept from his dormitory, knowing that he couldn't have either thing: milk or an adventure book. The kitchens were much too far away, and he wasn't even sure that the Hogwarts library contained such things.  
  
"Merlin, Martin, don't you ever sleep?" asked an annoyed feminine voice from the comfortable chair nearest the fire.  
  
He jumped and nearly squealed. He had expected to have the room to himself. But there was Sissy Howard in her dressing gown and pajamas with that blue throw of hers arranged just so as she folded and unfolded a scrap of paper almost compulsively.  
  
"Apparently you don't either," he said as he composed himself and went to sit on the couch.  
  
"I got an owl ..." she said.  
  
"Can't be good news," he observed.  
  
"I haven't decided. I think it could go either way," she replied coolly, staring into the fire. Martin was surprised that the flames did not diminish under her gaze.  
  
"Really?" he asked curiously.  
  
"If you want to know what it says, just ask," said Sissy, unfolding the note.  
  
Martin could see that it was written in a large, indelicate hand that rather resembled the clumsy script of a small child.  
  
"What does it say?" he asked dutifully.  
  
"That Professor Knowles would like to compliment me on my skills of deduction and logical thought," she answered.  
  
"Which means?"  
  
"That your father somehow convinced him to be checked for Memory Charms and the result was ... positive."  
  
"So your theory was correct?"  
  
"So it would seem at present, including your rather significant addition to it."  
  
"But you don't seem happy," observed Martin.  
  
"Do I ever seem happy to you?"  
  
"Er, well, no, I suppose not, but I thought that you would be pleased to know that you figured everything out. I mean, that was a bit work, wasn't it? What with so little to go on and all that research," he said rather hastily.  
  
"I find satisfaction in all of that," Sissy admitted, looking at the note again, "but there's more."  
  
"More?"  
  
"He's going to have the Memory Charm taken off the day after tomorrow. He has generously offered to allow me to be present. He thinks it would be rather educational for me to see a Memory Charm undone," she said, shifting in her seat.  
  
Martin shivered visibly and said, "But you're not going to, are you?"  
  
"Of course I am. I ... I shudder to think what Professor Knowles would think of me if I turned down his offer," she said sternly.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey won't like it," Martin warned.  
  
"Immaterial."  
  
"I don't understand ..."  
  
"Your father's doing it, the procedure, I mean," she answered.  
  
"And ... why is he doing this? Knowles, letting you watch this ... procedure?" asked Martin uncomfortably. "I'm certain it's not something people our age were meant to see. I've heard mum talk about Dark Wizards Obliviating people, and it doesn't sound especially nice ... not that part nor the part about fixing it either," said Martin, shaking his head.  
  
"Well, I suppose _Professor_ Knowles considers me a bit advanced for my age. I'm well ahead of everyone in class, not to mention that fact that I am a bit older," she told him.  
  
"And you're comfortable with this?"  
  
"No, but it is not necessary for me to be," she said, inclining her chin a little.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't trade places with you for the world," said Martin bluntly, "but if you want to do it, I'm not going to try and talk you out of it."  
  
"Haven't you tried that already?" she asked a bit archly.  
  
Martin just frowned and sat back against the couch.  
  
"You haven't said why you're down here," she remarked. "I trust it isn't because of the snoring."  
  
"Just couldn't sleep. I guess I'm anxious to see mum tomorrow," he shrugged.  
  
"Are you going to introduce Olivia and me to her?" asked Sissy, who was rather curious about his mother and wanted to meet her because she was a respected Auror.  
  
"Of course!" said Martin. "She'll certainly want to meet my friends if she has the chance. She's said in her letters that she's very glad I've made friends."  
  
Sissy smiled slightly and said, "I'm guessing that you didn't have many growing up."  
  
"Not really," Martin admitted, scratching his head, "but that was all right. I had the house elves to play with and my uncles and all."  
  
"That still sounds lonely," said Sissy.  
  
"I bet you had loads of friends," said Martin.  
  
"Not exactly, but there were always people around. If you want to know, I had met Olivia a few times before coming here. Our families travel in the same circles, more or less," she said.  
  
"But you weren't friends?"  
  
"Acquaintances."  
  
"There weren't that many wizarding children where I grew up," said Martin.  
  
"The same for me, but there weren't many wizarding children our age anywhere because of the war and everything. Or haven't you noticed how small our classes are?"  
  
"I've noticed," he nodded somberly.  
  
"You know, if I keep you up all night, you won't be in any fit state to greet your mother," said Sissy, slowly uncurling from her chair.  
  
"You aren't keeping me up. I'm keeping me up," Martin corrected, but he took the hint. Sissy was going to bed, or possibly back to bed.  
  
"Insomniac," she accused with a slight smirk.  
  
"Guilty," he said with chuckle, stretching as he left the couch.  
  
"Good night then," she said with a nod before walking away.  
  
Martin watched her walk up the stairs to her dormitory and disappear into the shadows before doing the same.   
  
Only later did it occur to him that Professor Knowles would be having his memory tampered with on Christmas Eve. It struck him as the oddest possible way to spend the holidays.

* * *

A/N: I've got nothing.  
  
silversea: I know, but I wanted to get some opinions on the troll before deleting it. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
halfblood princess: Thank you!  
  



	40. Professor of Transfigurations

Chapter Forty  
  
Professor of Transfigurations  
  
Martin made his way down to the Entrance Hall the next morning around a quarter after seven. He was still yawning when he spotted his father and Uncle Alastor seated at the bottom of the stairs that led in the direction of the hospital wing. They were talking quietly and each had a cup of steaming breakfast tea.   
  
Dumbledore smiled when he noticed his son, who was wearing school robes despite the fact they were not required during the holidays. Martin obviously wanted to look nice when he saw his mother again.  
  
Martin smoothed his robes and gave his father a lop-sided smile as he said, "Good morning."  
  
Alastor moved over a bit to make room on the stairs for the young wizard. "Did you sleep at all last night, lad?" asked Alastor as he looked Martin over.  
  
"Er, some, but I didn't leave the tower," he replied.  
  
Resisting the urge to tousle his hair, Alastor said, "I thought as much."  
  
"Your mum is going to want to know all about your adventures this term," said Professor Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes. "I don't think she will necessarily be pleased about all of them," he added.  
  
Martin colored a little and asked, "When is she arriving?"  
  
"Her portkey to Hogsmeade was set for five minutes after seven, but as she is walking up from the village, I don't expect her for another ten minutes or so," said Dumbledore, taking out his odd pocket watch and examining it for a moment.  
  
Martin peered at the timepiece, but said nothing.  
  
"You know, if she happened to bring her broom ..." commented Alastor with a mischievous look.  
  
Martin seemed very interested in this comment as his mum was an excellent and accomplished flyer and had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in school. She had, not surprisingly, been a Beater. If she had brought her broom for the holidays, then they could go out flying together. Martin would only need to borrow a school broom, which would keep pace nicely with her broomstick, a Moontrimmer that was in vintage condition. They might even be able to play a friendly game of Quidditch, or a close approximation thereof, with his father and uncle.  
  
Just then the front doors opened, proving Alastor correct as it had not taken Martin's mum very long to reach the castle on her broom.  
  
Martin sprang from the steps with a soft laugh and rushed toward the doors, through which streamed the watery light of early morning.  
  
He smiled as his mum stepped into the hall and set down her broom and the bag she always carried when she traveled. She brushed the snow from her tartan robes, which she wore for many occasions when not in the uniform of an Auror, and from her loose dark hair that cascaded in soft curls down her back. When in the field she normally wore it up and out of her way, but as she was not there at present, she was free to wear her hair and clothes as she wished. In neat contrast to Moody, she was considered rather by-the-book by some of her colleagues, though no less well-respected for it.  
  
As she finished collecting herself, her dark eyes fell on Martin and she smiled and held out her arms for him. He dashed to her and gave her a hug.  
  
"Martin! I've missed you so much," she laughed quietly before holding him at arm's length to get a good look at him.  
  
"Me too, mum," he admitted with a lop-sided grin.  
  
"And look at you! I do believe you've grown an inch or so," she observed, "which is quite surprising considering all of the frightful things that have happened to you this term."  
  
"I always thought that only Gryffindors had adventures and stuff," said Martin, blushing just a little bit.  
  
"So did I," she said with a wry look. "But ... you've done well, I suppose, that letter about coming home aside."  
  
"Sorry about that," he said.  
  
"Nonsense, Martin," she scoffed, putting an arm around his shoulder, "I'm sorry you've had such trouble this year. I hope those boys are leaving you alone now."  
  
"They are, mum," he assured her, "and I've got lots of other friends." Martin smiled as he thought of the girls.  
  
"Minerva, my dear, you are going to smother the poor boy," said her husband with a bemused expression.  
  
She looked up sharply and was about to say something, but frowned instead and let go of her son to approach Dumbledore.  
  
"You look different," she told him with a puzzled expression.  
  
Martin quickly hid a smile behind his hand.  
  
"Better or worse?" asked Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Your nose!" she shouted, just realizing the change. "What ever happened to your nose, Albus?" asked Minerva.  
  
Behind him Alastor raised his eyebrows curiously. He wanted to hear the story just as much as his former partner did.  
  
"I'm afraid it was broken with the butt of a centaur's spear during a very much unplanned gallivant through the forest. But you have my word that it won't happen again," said Dumbledore, touching his very crooked nose rather apologetically. There was still a twinkle of amusement in his bright blue eyes.  
  
Minerva just stared at him, rather menacingly actually, for a moment before holding out her arms to her husband, who caught her up in a very warm embrace.  
  
"I've missed you, my dear," he said quietly.  
  
Martin and Alastor exchanged grins, although Martin's was tinged with a slight blush.  
  
"By Merlin, McGonagall, you've turned into a puddle of mush since I was out in the field with you ... and to think that wasn't but a month or so ago," said Alastor as the very happily married couple parted.  
  
Minerva pursed her lips and replied, "And you're still here. Haven't managed to catch that horror yet?" She seemed rather serious.  
  
Alastor shuffled his feet a bit and retorted, "No, but it hasn't bit anyone on my watch either, now has it? I'll handle it. You can bet on that."  
  
Of course Martin was accustomed to his mother and uncle making such remarks to one another, usually about the topic of work as their styles in that area differed greatly. The banter might have seemed hostile to strangers who didn't know Moody and McGonagall, but Martin, not to mention Albus, knew better.  
  
"Well, maybe now that there are two fully trained Aurors here ..." she began.  
  
"But, mum! It's the holidays!" objected Martin. "You can't going chasing the vampire with Uncle Alastor!"  
  
"He's right, you know," said the headmaster. "You do have other matters to attend to at present."  
  
Alastor couldn't help looking a bit smug at that pronouncement.  
  
"That's right. I did agree to your little plan," sighed McGonagall as she rubbed her forehead, "but I don't intend for this to become anything more than just temporary." She gave her husband a very serious look.  
  
"Yes, dear, just temporary," he agreed with a smile.  
  
"Er, what's going on?" asked Martin in confusion.  
  
"I'm going to be teaching Transfigurations until you father can find a suitable replacement," she answered as her serious look melted away into a smile again.  
  
Martin gaped for a moment, causing her to laugh quietly.  
  
"You can't!" he sputtered as soon as he could manage it. "You don't know what it's like to have a parent who's a professor ... and ... and now the headmaster of the whole school! If ... if both of you are here ... What am I supposed to ... How can I ...?" he stammered, backing away from both his parents with a look of undisguised alarm and horror on his face.   
  
It felt as though his entire world was dissolving around him. Much of the term had been required for Martin to learn to deal with having his father as a professor, including no small amount of tutoring in Transfigurations by the girls. Then he had learned that Professor Dippet might be retiring, which would make his father headmaster. That had all come to pass, and it had made Martin a nervous wreck for days. He was still certain that the other students, what few were left, were pointing, staring, and talking about him mostly behind his back. It was only going to get worse when the rest of the school came back from the holidays. Now, on top of that, his _mother_ was going to teach them Transfigurations? This was a nightmare! He would never get any peace! And what would the girls think? He tried pinching himself as he stared at them, but nothing happened.  
  
"Martin, you're being foolish," said his mother with a comforting smile. "No one will even notice," she added.  
  
"Of ... of course they will," he stammered, still backing slowly away, "and everyone will tease me about having my whole family here. What's next? Uncle Merrick teaching an additional Charms class?"  
  
"Well, if anyone teases you, Martin, then you can just tell me ..." Minerva began to tell him in a placating tone.  
  
"No, mum, it doesn't work that way," he tried to explain as tears came to his eyes.  
  
He had been looking forward to seeing her so badly, but now, Martin was sorry that she had even come. Why did his father have to choose her to fill in for him? Why couldn't someone else have taken over the class? He just didn't understand.  
  
Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Martin turned and fled down the corridor before anything else could be said.  
  
Minerva looked at Albus and said, "I don't understand. I thought he would be happy. We could be like a more conventional family again. We could all be together. What's the matter with him, Albus?"  
  
"He's young, Minerva, and under enormous pressure both to fit in and to prove himself. It hasn't been easy for him, especially ... well, especially having me as a parent and a professor. You've received letters from him. You should have some idea ..." said Dumbledore patiently.  
  
Minerva considered this for a moment and nodded. "I see what you mean. Do you think it will be terribly difficult for him?" she asked.  
  
"Martin deals with difficulty very well," he responded placidly, "but I don't think it will be so hard. It's not as though we're about to announce to the whole school that we're married, is it?"  
  
"Well, I suppose not," she said grudgingly.  
  
"His friends would want to know, of course," said Alastor, who had observed the incident with some displeasure. In his opinion the news should have been broken more gently to Martin, given the state of things and how the term had started for him.  
  
"Of course," Minerva agreed, very much wanting to meet these friends, of whom Martin had spoken so highly in his letters.  
  
"He will adjust, Minerva," said Dumbledore emphatically as he put an arm around his young wife. "You know how resilient our Martin is."  
  
She chuckled wryly and said, "After this year, he ought to be as tough as nails."  
  
"Let me help you with your things. I'm afraid you will be 'officially' staying in my old quarters in Gryffindor Tower," said Dumbledore after a pause during which Alastor, rolling his eyes at both of them, made good his escape, intending to go after Martin.  
  
"Why?" asked Minerva suspiciously.  
  
"You did agree to take over as head of house," he said.  
  
"I did no such thing!" she objected quite strenuously.  
  
Martin ran until he realized that he didn't have anywhere to run to. Then he stopped and leaned against the nearest wall, resting his head against the cool stone and trying to catch his breath. He was still panting when he heard the sound of loud, quick footsteps behind him. Martin looked over his shoulder to see an irritated Professor Krohn, who had a handful of parchments.  
"Well? Did you win the race?" the professor asked shortly.  
  
"Race, sir?" Martin asked, realizing that he was probably in some sort of trouble.  
  
"I assumed when I saw you run by that there was some sort of indoor race going on. I see now that that is not the case as you would appear to be its only participant. Please, explain yourself, Mister Dumbledore," said Krohn with a raised eyebrow. Something about his tone and expression oddly reminded Martin of Sissy.  
  
"I would rather not, sir, if you don't mind," said Martin, turning a bit red. He certainly had no intention of baring his soul to his curmudgeonly, bitter, cynical, and altogether unpleasant potions' professor.  
  
"Five points from Ravenclaw then?" asked Krohn.  
  
Martin thought hard about this. His house was just behind Gryffindor ... They had a definite shot at the cup, especially since Slytherin showed no signs of recovery and Hufflepuff was being ... Hufflepuff. He couldn't afford to lose house points for Ravenclaw.  
  
"I just found out that my mum is going to teach Transfigurations, sir," he admitted reluctantly.  
  
Krohn blanched visibly at this and said, "That would explain it then." He gave Martin a very sour look. "But in the future please refrain from running in the corridors," he said.  
  
"Of course," said Martin with a nod, feeling a bit relieved, not to mention ever-so-slightly gratified by Krohn's reaction.  
  
"Will your mother be staying the entire remainder of the term?" asked Krohn with an unpleasant look.  
  
"I don't know, professor. Possibly," he answered with a decidedly uncomfortable shrug.  
  
"And how is it any of your concern, Krohn?" called a rough voice from behind the professor. It was Alastor Moody, who had made obnoxiously good time from the Entrance Hall.  
  
"I will be working with the little spitfire, will I not?" asked Krohn as he turned.  
  
Alastor laughed heartily at this and replied, "I take it you haven't seen her since she left school. She's neither little nor a spitfire, not by Aurors' standards, anyhow. But I take your point. McGonagall's going to be here ... until there's a replacement for her. A _qualified_ replacement, mind you."  
  
Alastor had only learned that morning that Hogwarts had acquired a new professor of Transfigurations, but knowing McGonagall and her skills, he was bound to stand behind her, especially in front of Krohn, whom he still found quite irksome.  
  
"This place is simply crawling with Aurors," remarked Krohn coldly.  
  
"Sweet Merlin, Reynard, don't tell me there's another one on the loose," said Professor Knowles as he emerged, cane in hand, from a side passage. As he had been an Auror of sorts himself, there was a trace of ironic humor in his tone.  
  
"McGonagall," said Krohn with a sneer.  
  
"Do I know him?" asked Knowles blankly.  
  
Krohn gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Of course you know _her_. That's Dumbledore's wife."  
  
"Oh, that former student you're always ranting about," nodded Knowles with a look of comprehension, not to mention vague amusement.  
  
"I am not," objected Krohn, glaring at Alastor, who seemed to find that bit of information indecently amusing.  
  
"So more than one of her professors wanted to ..." Alastor began before realizing Martin was staring at him with a very shocked look on his face. He wisely didn't finish that statement.  
  
"Moody," Knowles acknowledged, realizing that he had perhaps said too much in mixed company.  
  
"Yes, and young Dumbledore is here too," Krohn snapped informatively.  
  
Knowles looked a bit put out and tried to change the subject: "So you say she's here to teach Transfigurations. Is she any good?"  
  
"Yes," answered Krohn, Moody, and Martin in nearly perfect unison.  
  
They all looked at one another with awkward expressions, especially Martin who immediately thereafter began studying his shoes -- and wanting to die.  
  
Knowles, after a pause, chuckled at the reply. "She has a fair share of admirers at any rate. Her talents ... in the area of Transfigurations ... must be extraordinary," he commented, attempting to mask his amusement and failing.  
  
"They are. She is an Animagus, you know," said Krohn more than a little indifferently. He glanced at Alastor as he spoke.  
  
Knowles did not seem terribly impressed by this and shrugged, "Well, Dumbledore was the first non-Animagus to teach Transfigurations here in ... what? A century?"  
  
Martin shuffled his feet uncomfortably as he watched Alastor glare at Knowles. He knew that look. Alastor was beginning to lose his patience with the two professors.  
  
"Are you two planning to go on about this all morning?" he asked them.  
  
"Not at all, Moody. You can leave at anytime ... and young Dumbledore as well," said Knowles, clearly unperturbed. He had known Alastor longer than any of them and most probably liked him the least. Even considering how Krohn felt about him, so that was saying something.  
  
"I just came to fetch young Martin for breakfast," growled Moody, grasping the young wizard by the shoulder. "We were going to have a nice family meal," he added.  
  
Krohn inhaled sharply as he said that, and Knowles bristled.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked the defense professor.  
  
"Alastor's like my uncle," interjected Martin, who, despite his misgivings about having such a meal, would much rather have faced his parents than an argument between the two formidable professors and his uncle. He wasn't exactly sure who would win such an argument, especially a serious one.  
  
"Well, Moody?" snapped Knowles, ignoring Martin's comment, which had little bearing on the source of his ire.  
  
Alastor looked at Krohn, who had turned a bit pale and seemed to be very nearly shaking with anger, and said, "You know I didn't mean it like _that_."  
  
"Didn't you?" spat the potions' master.  
  
Martin slowly edged away from both his uncle and the professor as he could feel the tension heighten. There was no way that he wanted to be caught in the middle of this.  
  
"Of course not," said Alastor awkwardly, running his hands through his shaggy hair. "I'm very sorry if you took it the wrong way," he added perhaps a bit grudgingly.  
  
Martin was quite confused. Then he remembered his uncle telling him that Krohn had lost much of his family, three siblings to be precise, during the Grindelwald conflict ... Suddenly he understood why Alastor's words had bothered Krohn, and Knowles as well, although he was sure that his uncle had meant nothing by the idle comment. He wasn't one to taunt someone in such a vicious manner.  
  
"I don't understand why you've come here apparently to do nothing but stir up enmity and cause trouble," said Knowles.  
  
It was Alastor Moody's turn to bristle at the charge that he was doing nothing. Moody stepped toward Knowles before Krohn could interfere.  
  
"If you weren't blind, I'd knock you on your arse, Knowles," he threatened. "I've come here to do a job, and, by Merlin, I mean to do it whether it takes two months or twenty."  
  
"You want to knock me down?" asked Knowles. "Go ahead and try," he said, tossing his cane toward Krohn, who just barely managed to catch it.  
  
Martin wasn't sure who threw the first punch, as neither wizard had gone for his wand, but a few seconds later Alastor was flat on his back on the floor with Knowles leaning over him, holding one of his arms at an awkward angle and keeping the heel of his boot leveraged against his opponent's side. It looked rather painful by Martin's estimation.  
  
"Do I have him, Reynard?" asked Knowles, perhaps wrenching Alastor's arm harder than strictly necessary.  
  
Moody flailed his other arm uselessly and swore.  
  
"Yes, I would say you indeed have him," answered Krohn with a rather impressed look on his face that clearly indicated that he had been underestimating his colleague's ability to defend himself.  
  
Martin wanted to intervene, of course, but he was uncertain as to how to go about this, especially since Alastor did not appear to be injured, merely embarrassed and quite uncomfortable. Besides, he imagined that his uncle wouldn't appreciate it if he shouted something like, 'Hey! Stop that you big bully!' at the professor. It was clearly a no-win situation.  
  
Of course, it was only a split second later when a feminine voice down the corridor shouted, "What's going on down there?"  
  
Professor Knowles immediately released the struggling Auror and stepped back, away from him. Krohn pressed the cane back into his colleague's hand as the person who had shouted approached. Martin winced when he saw that it was his mother.  
  
"Nothing, Minerva, nothing at all," said Alastor in a friendly tone as he pulled himself up from the floor. He quickly scowled at Krohn and Knowles before adopting a more amiable expression. It is quite possible that he would rather have died than let Minerva know he had been whipped by a blind man.  
  
She glanced at Martin, who still looked a bit alarmed, and said, "A likely story, I'm sure."  
  
They were all quiet for a moment, but Martin plucked up his courage and asked, "Er, mum, do you suppose we could have breakfast now?"  
  
She looked at him quizzically and said, "I suppose ... but I'd like to know what happened here first."  
  
"We were just demonstrating ... defense techniques for the boy," said Knowles, hoping that Moody would not contradict him. He did not wish to explain the losses of temper, especially his own.  
  
"Exactly," agreed Alastor quickly. Too quickly by the estimation of his former partner and long time friend.  
  
"Right ..." she said slowly. "Come along, you two," Minerva told Martin and Alastor. "Good morning, professors," she said to Knowles and Krohn, the latter of whom favored her with an irked expression. She smiled sweetly in return.  
  
Martin and Alastor followed as she turned and started back down the hall. When they were out of earshot of the other professors, McGonagall primly said, "I hope that teaches you a lesson about brawling with your betters."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Moody muttered, rubbing his sore back.  
  
After having breakfast with his parents and uncle, Martin returned to the Aerie in an odd sort of mood. It had been nice, gathering around a table in his father's new and much more elegant quarters with his family, but there was a knot in his stomach regarding the knowledge that both his father and mother would now be at the school with him. The common room was almost empty, except for Sissy and Olivia, who were reading by the fire when Martin entered.  
  
He started toward his dormitory, not ready to face the girls, especially Sissy, although he was considering writing a letter to Corinna to see if she knew anything and if she did, he was going to be very displeased about the extreme lack of warning.  
  
"Martin!" called Olivia. "Going to introduce us to your mum?"  
  
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and said, "You'll be meeting her soon enough." Then he continued trudging up the stairs without a backward glance. He just wanted to lie down and think for a while.  
  
Olivia and Sissy exchanged puzzled glances.  
  
"That was abrupt," said Sissy as they heard the dormitory door close.  
  
"I don't think the family reunion went very well," commented Olivia. "Do you suppose we should go up there and ..."  
  
"No," said Sissy very succinctly.  
  
"But he's upset. Don't you think?" asked Olivia.  
  
"My point exactly. He will come down when he's ready to tell us what happened," said Sissy in a slightly tired voice.  
  
"But ..." said Olivia anxiously.  
  
"You haven't finished that assignment," Sissy reminded her, picking up the book she had been reading: _The Secrets of Occlumency Revealed _by some very obscure seventeenth century wizard. Sissy was enjoying his work and planned to find out if he had written other books.  
  
Olivia groaned and looked at the parchments scattered across the couch, representing the sum total of her work on that defense assignment.  
  
"I've got more than a week," she sighed loudly.  
  
"You'll feel better when it's done," said Sissy.  
  
Olivia grumbled to herself, but followed her advice, picking up her defense text again, but not without glancing toward the stairs to the first year boys' dormitory.  
  
  
  
That evening in a completely different part of Britain, a school owl tapped on the window of a house on a quiet street somewhere in Leicestershire where Corinna Bellew was helping her Muggle mum wash the dishes after supper. The sound at the window startled the elder of the two dishwashers greatly as she had never quite grown accustomed to receiving or sending mail by means of large nocturnal birds. Something about it just unnerved her.  
  
"Oh, Corinna, get that will you?" asked her mother with an anxious look.  
  
"Of course," she answered with a smile, drying her hands and walking to open the window.  
  
The owl flew inside and perched on the back of a chair while Corinna removed the message tied to its leg. She looked around for something to give it as a reward, but could only find a few stray Muggle sweets lying on the counter. She unwrapped a brightly colored wrapper and offered the sweet to the bird. She had seen Sissy give Zubin wizarding sweets before and decided that it should be all right. Of course, it was better to give an owl anything than to send it away offended. It would surely leave droppings in the drive, if not on the car.  
  
The owl took a look at the sweet in Corinna's right hand and then the wrapper in her left and quickly made a decision.   
  
It made off with the wrapper, thinking to itself, "Shiny!" Then it flew away.  
  
Corinna shrugged and popped the sweet into her mouth as she noticed the letter was addressed to her.  
  
She felt rather certain that it was from Martin and anything but good news. If it had been good news, Sissy's owl might have brought it.  
  
"_Dear Corinna, my mum arrived today, but not exactly for the hols like I thought. I should have written you when I found out she was coming. But that doesn't matter anymore as I was wrong. She's here to teach Transfigurations. Both my parents are now at school with me, and I don't know for how long. You know, I think I hate this worse than the vampire. And that prat Black. And his friends. I think I just hate it all. You didn't know this was coming and not tell me, did you? Your very miserable friend, Martin_."  
  
"Poor Martin," Corinna murmured, wishing she had held the owl for a reply, although she was certain that the bird had been quite mad.  
  
"What's that, dear?" asked her mother curiously.  
  
"It's just from my friend Martin. His holidays aren't going so well," said Corinna.  
  
"Oh," said her mother, going back to drying the dishes.  
  
Corinna was more than a little tempted to ask to return to school early.

* * *

A/N: I hope no one finds Martin's mother's identity too disappointing.  
  
silversea: I know. Yeesh. The human mind isn't something to be trifled with. Thank you for reviewing!  
  



	41. O Holy Night

Chapter Forty-one  
  
O Holy Night  
  
By the time Christmas Eve, a day Sissy had secretively begun to dread, arrived, Martin was in a non-communicative slump from which neither of the girls, especially Olivia, thought he was never going to recover. He wasn't exhibiting any Yuletide cheer. Not even a glimmer of it as the castle grew festive and cheery around him. That fact made Olivia rather sad, but it could not wholly dampen her spirits.  
  
The same could almost be said for Sissy, thanks in part to her upcoming appointment with Dumbledore and Knowles that evening in the hospital wing, which to her amazement had been arranged right under the nose of the school mediwitch.  
  
But despite that event, Sissy was not nearly so blue and unhappy as Martin, who sat listlessly in front of the fire in the common room, regarding the divan where Corinna often lounged with looks of anxious longing. She had not answered his letter yet, although Zubin was supposed to be making his Christmas rounds that night.  
  
As they all got ready for dinner that evening, Sissy reminded them that she would be slipping out early.  
  
"When?" asked Olivia, fiddling with the laces of one of her boots while Sissy stashed her books away.  
  
"Not long after the professors involved..." she answered vaguely.  
  
Martin looked at her with special anxiety and said, "You don't have to go. They can't force you."  
  
"No one is _forcing_ me to do anything. It's ... a courtesy," said Sissy in a clipped tone.  
  
"Then why are you so scared?" asked Olivia.  
  
"I'm not," Sissy insisted, fumbling with her Occlumency book.  
  
"Of course not ..." said Olivia in a mildly sarcastic tone.  
  
"I'm just ... slightly apprehensive, nothing more," countered Sissy with a look on her face clearly meant to tell Olivia to shut up.  
  
"We're just worried," she said, not taking the hint.  
  
"And unreasonably so," said Sissy. "Let's go to dinner before we're late," she added, effectively closing the discussion.  
  
Martin glowered slightly, but just shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. Olivia reacted much the same way, but without the glowering.  
  
Sissy and Olivia had noticed a witch whom they felt certain was Martin's mother during dinner before that night, but they tried not to stare at her as this was rude. But from time to time they did risk surreptitious glances at the female Auror seated between Alastor Moody and Headmaster Dumbledore. Both girls were surprised, given the former Transfigurations' professor's age, which was in the vicinity of a century, that his wife appeared to be so young, somewhere in her mid-thirties. They had expected a middle-aged witch closer to Professor Vector's age, for example. Of course, as Martin was in no mood to entertain questions regarding his parents, they could not ask him about her, though they remained quite curious.  
  
After the meal was nearly finished that night, Professor Dumbledore leaned over and said something to his wife, which did not go unnoticed by Sissy, who had had an eye on the high table all evening. Then he excused himself and left the table.  
  
Sissy glanced at Professor Knowles, who was seated at the far end near Krohn and looking bored. Dumbledore had barely slipped through the doors of the hall when Knowles also rose from the table, took up his cane, and made his way out of the hall.  
  
Olivia and Martin were staring at her as she slowly folded her napkin and glanced toward the open doors.  
  
"I will see you back at the Aerie," she said in an even tone.  
  
"When?" asked Martin.  
  
"Before curfew, I imagine," said Sissy, thinking how unpleasant it would be to walk back to the tower alone at night. She was not afraid, of course, but after her recent bout of bad luck regarding after-hours adventures, she did not think it prudent to be out at night too often. That was just tempting fate.  
  
Sissy nodded to Olivia and Martin and left her place at the Ravenclaw table where very few students were eating their dinner.  
  
Sissy strode purposefully into the Entrance Hall to find Professor Dumbledore waiting for her with a patient smile that she found somehow very Gryffindor. She frowned when she realized that Professor Knowles was not there.  
  
"He has already gone to the hospital wing," said Dumbledore.  
  
She narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering if he had read her mind. The idea unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. However, she imagined that he had merely guessed as much.  
  
"Very well, sir," said Sissy evenly.  
  
Dumbledore gestured to the stairs leading to the hospital wing and said, "After you, Miss Howard."  
  
"Thank you," she said quietly.  
  
"Have you done any reading on Memory Charms?" asked the professor as they walked.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder and said, "Actually, I've been reading more about Occlumency and Legilimency." She didn't want to tell him that she had read about Memory Charms before, the previous year, actually, and had not felt the need to brush up on her knowledge.  
  
"I see," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"Is there anything in particular that you believe I should know, professor?" she questioned.  
  
Dumbledore thought this over for a moment before telling her, "It will not be especially pleasant, but I imagine you know that much." Sissy nodded curtly. "You are free to leave at anytime during this procedure, Miss Howard," he told her, "but if the need arises, I may also ask you to leave."  
  
"I understand that, professor," she said coolly as they reached the doors to the hospital wing. One was slightly ajar.  
  
"This term I have often found myself wondering why you were not sorted into Gryffindor," chuckled Dumbledore. It was his way of calling her brave, and Sissy appreciated that ... on some level.  
  
"My mother was a Slytherin, sir," said Sissy indifferently, considering that a perfectly valid explanation.  
  
"Is that so?" he asked, opening the door for her and ushering her inside.  
  
"Yes, she was in the class of 1939, so perhaps you would remember her. Silvestra Malfoy?" questioned Sissy.  
  
Dumbledore gave her an odd look and said, "I do remember her. She was extraordinarily bright and rather popular, if memory serves."  
  
Sissy smiled at that very complimentary description of her mother. Coming from the head of a rival house, it was high praise indeed.  
  
"Dawdling?" asked a slightly annoyed voice from within the shadowy hospital wing.  
  
"Of course not, Cyrus," said Dumbledore, illuminating the wing with a wave of his hand.  
  
Sissy saw that Professor Knowles was leaning against a hospital bed about halfway down the wing. His posture oddly resembled the way he leaned against his desk in his classroom except that he had his arms crossed over his chest in a strangely defensive manner. He was anxious; Sissy was almost sure of that, and though he had good reason to be nervous, his anxiety disconcerted her as well.  
  
"In that case, let's get on with this before I lose my nerve," he said.  
  
Dumbledore put a hand on his colleague's shoulder as he approached him and said, "You really should lie down for this, Cyrus."  
  
"If you insist," said Knowles, "but I do not plan to faint."  
  
"Does anyone?" asked Dumbledore curiously, which made Knowles give him a rather menacing look.  
  
"Very amusing, I'm sure," Knowles responded.  
  
Sissy realized that the two professors had probably known each other since Knowles was eleven years old and was first sorted into Gryffindor house. They had probably been in the war together too. She wondered briefly, as Knowles climbed onto the hospital bed, why the two men weren't closer. She seldom saw them together when their positions did not require them to be. Except here and now in the hospital wing....  
  
Dumbledore drew his wand and stood at the foot of the bed. Sissy slowly stepped toward the nearer side of the hospital bed. Knowles turned his head toward her.  
  
"Curious, Miss Howard?" he asked.  
  
"A bit, professor," she acknowledged.  
  
"This isn't exactly Defense Against the Dark Arts," Knowles told her.  
  
"I don't know. I have heard that Aurors have needed to remove Memory Charms before," she replied, glancing at Professor Dumbledore as though for confirmation.  
  
"I have heard that as well," he said with a nod and an impressed look.  
  
"Why do I feel like the victim of a private joke?" asked Knowles.  
  
"It must be your imagination, Cyrus," remarked Dumbledore. He turned his attention to Sissy and instructed, "Please, grasp Professor Knowles' hand as he may fidget for a moment."  
  
Sissy, to her credit, did not hesitate.  
  
"I will not!" snorted Knowles, although he permitted his student to do as the headmaster asked, which was rather to her surprise. She expected a stern reproach on account of 'sentimentality' or 'emotionalism' or another related vice. But he had none for her at that time.  
  
Sissy noted at that moment, as she braced for the spell and Knowles' reaction to it, that she could hear the sound of singing; Christmas carols, she surmised, coming from the Great Hall, the entrance to which, if she worked it out properly, was almost directly below them, or perhaps a bit to the left.  
  
She imagined that it was the caroling that would keep Madam Pomfrey out of the wing while Dumbledore performed this minor procedure. She knew that Knowles did not get along very well with the young mediwitch, who was a Gryffindor too, but she also believed that Pomfrey was being carefully kept away because neither professor wanted a fuss. That made sense, in Sissy's opinion, but using the hospital wing did not. Why not use one of the classrooms? Surely a bed could have been conjured for the occasion.  
  
"_Instauro_!" spoke Dumbledore with a wave of his wand and no further preamble.  
  
Knowles gave him a puzzled look and said, "Well, that was all for nothing. I didn't feel a thing."  
  
He started to let go of Sissy's hand, but then he twitched slightly. Knowles furrowed his brow slightly and started to say something. But he stopped rather abruptly and took a deep and shuddering breath. Then he began screaming, possibly as loudly as he could, throwing his head back against the pillow of the bed as he grasped Sissy's hand in a strong, pinching grip.  
  
Sissy's instinct, or at least her first instinct, was to free her hand, but she was not one to panic and simply squeezed back against the pressure, waiting for him to stop screaming. She wrapped her other hand around his to help match the unrelenting pressure.  
  
"What's happened?" she asked Professor Dumbledore, who was still standing calmly at the foot of the bed and watching his colleague as he cried out. She thought she heard him mutter a Silencing Charm on the room, or at least their portion of it, to keep in the nearly blood-curdling sounds.  
  
"He's remembering what happened that night in the forest, what went on between him and the vampire. It was worse than I feared," said Dumbledore with a very grim expression on his face.  
  
"Can't you do something for him?" she asked plaintively, watching her professor's eyes roll back as he howled wordlessly. She felt utterly helpless to do anything to calm or assist him.  
  
"I am afraid that this must pass on its own accord, Miss Howard, however unpleasant that might be," he said somberly.  
  
A few moments Knowles shuddered violently and was suddenly quiet. His grip on her hand grew slack. His eyes closed. Sissy felt rather certain that he had simply passed out.  
  
She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, both of which were wrapped tightly around Professor Knowles' hand. There was a little blood, hers, from where his fingernails had inadvertently dug into her skin. She was surprised. It had not hurt nor even got her attention. She squeezed his hand. Nothing.  
  
Raising her eyes to look at Dumbledore again, she found that he had stepped to Knowles' other side and lifted his hand.  
  
"He's just fainted, I believe," he assured Sissy. "It's probably for the best. He will regain his senses more easily after a few minutes of peace."  
  
She didn't know what to say, so she only nodded and blinked away an odd moisture that clung to her eyelashes. Tears, she realized. She wasn't really crying per se, but a few stray tears had somehow managed to escape.  
  
Dumbledore removed the Silencing Charm, and Sissy could hear the soft sound of singing downstairs again. So few students and professors and the ghosts ... but their voices carried through the old castle.  
  
"Muggle music is a strange thing. The melodies are very soothing somehow," commented Dumbledore quietly, noticing the music again as well.  
  
"Yes, sir," she agreed, though she couldn't quite pick out the tune or the words.  
  
Sissy realized at that moment why she was really there, and it came as some surprise to her. Dumbledore, despite his initial misgivings regarding her involvement, wanted her to be there to learn something: the dangers of Dark Magic. She looked down at Knowles, who was lying there so pale and still, and tried very hard not to shiver. Yes, Dark Magic, and even not-so-dark magic, could be dangerous in the wrong hands. She could see and understand what had happened to her professor because of one demented and obviously very evil wizard.  
  
Knowles stirred slightly. Sissy squeezed his hand and glanced at Dumbledore anxiously. She was looking to him for reassurance, and on some level that galled her just a bit. Looking to a Gryffindor who was obviously trying to teach her a lesson that the Ravenclaw who had come before him could not.  
  
"Cyrus? Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked tentatively.  
  
"Of course, Albus. That's hardly the sense that's been affected, is it?" asked Knowles in a mildly groggy, but sharp tone. He did not open his eyes.  
  
Sissy wasn't sure how he managed the tone, given the situation, but his voice was a bit scratchy from the prolonged screaming. It was entirely possible that he had strained his vocal cords.  
  
"Are you all right, professor?" she asked.  
  
"Miss Howard ... perhaps you should go. I must tell the headmaster a few things that may not be entirely appropriate for a second year student to hear," he said quite calmly. After speaking those words, however, he required a deep breath.  
  
"I would rather stay," she said quickly, squeezing his hand again.  
  
Knowles nodded, choosing not to press the issue. Instead he simply took another breath and began speaking.  
  
"He ... it blinded me, Albus," said the defense professor in an oddly clipped tone, attempting to sound calm, even unbothered, about the whole affair. "I think it was because it didn't want anyone to know it had Legilimenced me. It was trying to get information on the school, on you, on that son of yours," said Knowles.  
  
"You resisted?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"I tried, of course, but ... I don't know very much about that sort of thing. Because of the war, I only had a half hour seminar on Occlumency back when I was in training to be an Auror. That's all I knew. I'm sorry, Albus."  
  
"If the time required for us to find you is any indication, you did well, Cyrus," said Dumbledore, patting his younger colleague's shoulder.  
  
Sissy wanted to add that some of his injuries, the burst capillaries in his eyes, for instance, had probably been the result of his resistance as well, but she held her tongue. In fact, it was possible that if he had not resisted, the vampire would not have needed to cover its tracks by blinding him. She tried not to shiver.  
  
"No, it isn't. I'm certain he got everything he wanted from me, from my own mind, with scarcely a struggle," said Cyrus bitterly.  
  
"You can hardly be faulted for that. No one knew who we were dealing with..."  
  
"Spare me," snapped Knowles as his features contorted.  
  
For a second Sissy thought he was going to start screaming again and squeezed his hand anxiously. His features softened again as the ugly, angry look dissipated. She couldn't tell if he was in pain or not. Or simply angry at Dumbledore or at himself.  
  
"Do you know what the vampire did to you exactly?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"I never trained to be a Healer, Albus," he replied, "but I believe it was a disintegrating spell on the nerves." Then unexpectedly Knowles laughed. "I thought it was painful when I was injured in France. That hardly compared to this ... to what it did. I must admit that I feel rather silly for playing the martyr all these years when there were worse things..."  
  
Sissy tried not to shudder at the thought and was largely successful.  
  
"You were never a martyr, Cyrus," Dumbledore told him sincerely.  
  
"Rubbish," muttered Knowles before taking a deep breath.  
  
Then Dumbledore asked a question that had been tugging at Sissy's mind for more than a little while: "Do you know why the vampire didn't use a more ... potent way of handling his dilemma? Of keeping us from knowing what he had done?"  
  
"Or rather, why didn't it bite my neck, suck out my blood, kill me, and be done with it?" snorted Knowles. Sissy squeezed his hand again. "Oh, do stop that," he said, turning his head in her direction. Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows a little.  
  
"Sorry," she said quietly.  
  
"I suppose that was the question," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Because if it had killed me, Armando would have had to hire a competent defense professor to take my place. By remaining here, as it no doubt knew I would, I have made it easier for the vampire..."  
  
"Professor!" objected Sissy in a completely scandalized tone. "You can't be serious! You're still a competent defense instructor. That just ... just isn't true!"  
  
His words of self-blame had surprised and shocked her. Sissy refrained from squeezing his hand again, though it was the only form of comfort she could provide for him, and he desperately seemed in need of something to comfort him. But this time the professor almost cautiously squeezed one of her hands.  
  
"So much faith in one so unworthy," he whispered, finally opening his eyes. They were bleary with tears that he could not allow himself to shed.  
  
"But you're are worthy, sir," she said, and she meant it.  
  
"Cyrus, you've had a trying evening. Unless there is something important you wish to tell me concerning ... the incident, perhaps it is time for you to return to your quarters and recuperate," suggested Dumbledore.  
  
Sissy noted that the singing downstairs had ceased. They didn't have much time left if they wanted the procedure to remain, more or less, a secret.  
  
"I could describe to you the ... the unpleasantness that it put me through, but I don't think you would profit by it, Albus," he said rather placidly.  
  
Both Sissy and the older professor made faces at this statement and the manner in which he said it. He was offering to describe his torture for them.  
  
"No, that will not be necessary," said Dumbledore. "Would you like a Dreamless Sleep potion for tonight?" he asked.  
  
"I rarely dream," replied Knowles, slipping his hand from Sissy's and very slowly sitting up, "but I will admit to being fatigued."  
  
"Of course," said Dumbledore in an understanding tone.  
  
Sissy could tell by Knowles' expression that it rankled slightly. He reached for his cane, but she was faster, grabbing it and placing it in his hand. He favored her with a smile that contained both amusement and mild affront.  
  
"Perfectly capable," he said quietly as he left the bed.  
  
"I know," she said, quickly wiping her eyes on her sleeve. They still felt damp and sticky.  
  
Knowles took a step away from the bed and swayed dizzily. He might have plunged face first into the floor, but Sissy was there to catch him. She vaguely remembered a slightly disparaging comment he had made about her reflexes earlier in the term, but she simply didn't have the heart nor strength to smirk under his weight. Dumbledore was at his elbow in an instant.  
  
"Just dizzy for a moment ..." said Knowles clumsily waving the older professor away. Somehow he knew that doing the same to Sissy would prove impossible. Either that or he would fall flat on his arse without her.  
  
"I'm afraid one of us should escort you to your quarters," said Dumbledore.  
  
Knowles gave him a clearly disgusted and irritated look. Sissy, who had her arms around his midsection and was still attempting to steady him, blushed a very prominent shade of red at the suggestion.  
  
"You're insisting?" Knowles questioned.  
  
"I am," nodded Professor Dumbledore. "Unless, of course, you wanted to wait for Madam Pomfrey to return. We could ask her opinion. She never hesitates to give it," he added.  
  
"Is it after curfew then?" asked Knowles.  
  
"Not yet," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"Miss Howard, would you mind?" asked the defense professor indifferently. "You see, I'm a bit concerned that my esteemed colleague would try to giving me a sleeping potion or otherwise attempt to charm my sleep ... without my consent," he said with a slight frown that was undoubtedly directed at Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"I don't mind, professor," said Sissy, although she was under the impression that a draught of some kind would do him good, "but I don't know where your private rooms are."  
  
"Would that I could keep it that way. Students should never know where their professors sleep. It invariably leads to pranks or worse mischief," said Knowles, finding his balance and starting toward the door as though Sissy weren't really there. She was quick to catch up and take his arm.  
  
"Oddly enough it does," agreed Dumbledore thoughtfully as he followed them from the hospital wing. "But I don't think you need to worry about that, Cyrus," he said with a chuckle.  
  
"Of course not, professor," said Sissy coolly as she helped him down the stairs, "and if it would make you feel any better, I won't divulge the location of your rooms to anyone."  
  
"Miss Howard, I doubt that anything could make me feel better right now, but I thank you," said Knowles with a tired sigh that he could not have suppressed, even if he had tried.  
  
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the headmaster bade them good-night and went on his way. Sissy and Knowles crossed the Entrance Hall and started down a corridor that led vaguely toward the stairs to the library, or it did so most of the time. That evening Sissy had the odd feeling that they were walking in the direction of a secondary passageway leading down to the dungeons, but then Knowles turned, knowing his way through these corridors better than any other part of the castle, and started up a half hidden staircase.  
  
"Never been here before, have you?" asked Professor Knowles.  
  
"No, I don't believe I have," she replied.  
  
"Was you curiosity satisfied tonight?"  
  
Sissy frowned and said, "I believe so. I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?" he asked with a hint of interest and surprise.  
  
"The obvious discomfort that this has caused you. If I hadn't pried into matters best left...." she began to explain with a stiff shrug.  
  
"Rubbish. I would rather know if someone's sifted through my brain than not, despite any _minor_ discomfort experienced in the acquiring of that knowledge," he interrupted as they emerged from the secluded staircase into a narrow and somewhat dusty corridor with windows lining it on one side. Outside was dusky and nearly dark.  
  
Sissy raised her eyebrows at his description of what had happened. Minor was hardly the word she would have chosen. But he was being very brave about the whole unpleasant affair.  
  
At the end of the hallway, they stopped in front of a very old portrait of a witch in dark purple robes who was seated at the foot of an empty, but ornately sculpted granite throne on a dais. She was rather lovely, but there was something about her lips and eyes, a certain cruelty, that Sissy did not like. Her hair fell in long tresses to be lost among the shadows of the hall and the picture itself. The woman in the portrait regarded Sissy with a haughty expression that made the young witch want to look away.  
  
"Cyrus, you know that you aren't permitted to have students so young in your quarters, but I won't say anything ..." she said in a low, seductive purr.  
  
"Morgana," snapped Knowles, coloring just slightly, "I am in no mood."  
  
"Then she's the one you should be telling," smirked the portrait figure.  
  
Sissy blushed brilliantly, but said, "I take it that this is your door warden."  
  
"And a genuine pain in the arse," nodded Knowles.  
  
"Do introduce us," said the witch, resting her elbow on the throne behind her.  
  
"Miss Howard, Morgan le Fay, or rather her likeness. Morgana, Miss ... Sissy Howard," said Knowles rather perfunctorily.  
  
Sissy was surprised that he was willing to take orders from a painting, and a painting of a notorious Dark Witch at that. What was a picture of her doing in the castle in the first place?  
  
"Charmed," said Morgana before turning her attention to Cyrus for a moment. "Do tell me, what house is she in?" she asked him curiously.  
  
"That is none of your business," said Knowles in a snappish tone, carefully removing Sissy's hand from his arm.  
  
"Ravenclaw," she answered.  
  
"Good girl," said Morgana with a bit of a smile. It was not a very pleasant smile, but rather hungry or devious in nature. "They were always very apt..." she added.  
  
Sissy furrowed her brow, ready to dispute with Morgana as Hogwarts had not yet been founded when she was alive, according to historical records, such as they were, but Knowles interrupted.  
  
"She means the _family_ of Ravenclaw," he told her. "The ancestors of Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of Hogwarts and of your house."  
  
"But aren't they rather the same? Both learned and loving knowledge more than anything else under the sun?" asked le Fay with a slight pout.  
  
Knowles had an uncomfortable expression on his face as he said, "I'm not certain that's exactly fair." Then he turned to Sissy and said, "I think you should be going, Miss Howard. I feel that it is nearly curfew."  
  
"You will be fine then, professor?" she asked.  
  
"So polite," murmured the portrait.  
  
"Of course, Miss Howard," he said, deftly ignoring Morgana, who had been bothering him for ten years that term without letting up even in view of his recent difficulties. "I am rather tired, and I do appreciate not hearing a single word from you that sounded like I-told-you-so, though such words would have been well deserved," he said with a weary smile.  
  
"I would never, sir," she said in a tone that perhaps suggested otherwise.  
  
"If I may be so bold as to say so, I think perhaps you would make a very good mediwitch or Healer when you are older," he said.  
  
"That's silly. When I grow up, I'm going to be an Auror, professor, like you were," she answered, "or, failing that, an Unspeakable like my father."  
  
The look of pride on his face was unmistakable, though he tried very hard to conceal it.  
  
"I'm flattered, Miss Howard, but you have many years to decide," he told her.  
  
"You could always get married and have a family," suggested Morgana quietly in a slightly acerbic tone.  
  
"Do you mind? I'm talking to a student," snapped Knowles.  
  
"I should be on my way," said Sissy, eyeing the sulking portrait and wondering if she were still capable of doing magic. She didn't like that idea very much, but soon brushed it aside as silly.  
  
"Of course," he nodded. "The hour is growing late, I'm sure. Thank you ... for acting as my escort, Miss Howard."  
  
"You are quite welcome, sir," she said coolly, turning to go.  
  
"Do come again," said Morgana in a false-friendly tone.  
  
Sissy pretended not to hear her and walked away. She heard Knowles mutter something behind her, possibly his password, but continued walking. It was a long way back to her Aerie, darkness had fallen upon the castle, and she knew that Martin and Olivia would be growing concerned.  
  
But she smiled slightly to herself as she walked. Like Morgan le Fay's smile, it was not entirely pleasant. There was a hint of grim satisfaction, fulfillment of duty, and smugness in it. She was glad that it was all over and done, that she didn't need to worry about what had happened anymore; she knew now. The subject was closed, and perhaps even for the better. She glanced down at her scratched hands and winced slightly. She could just imagine Olivia's reaction.  
  
"Well worth it," she murmured, putting her hands in her pockets as she continued on her way.

* * *

A/N:  
  
silversea: Thank you for reviewing!  
  



	42. Meeting Minerva

Chapter Forty-two  
  
Meeting Minerva  
  
The rest of the holidays were rather peaceful for the girls, those both at and away from Hogwarts, and for Martin, who was still a bit on edge about having his mum at the school for the foreseeable future. That is, he had written Corinna again and asked her when his mum would be leaving and she had replied that she simply didn't know that. She had patiently explained this in more detail upon her return. But Martin was slowly get used to the idea of his mother teaching classes, although he was very grateful to have the subject only two days out of the week.  
  
All five of the Ravenclaws had had a very merry Christmas, evidenced by the stack of new books on a wide variety of topics on their respective bedside tables.  
  
Sissy had received, for example, a wondrously fascinating book on _Notable Medieval Witches_ that even included a small article on Morgan le Fay, which she was quick to read and reread just in case she needed to face that formidable portrait of her ever again.  
  
Sophia's favorite gift, many of which had been books, was a tome on the _History of Magical Medicine_ that was a recent edition and took a very modern look at the topic. The illustrations were a bit gruesome, but she chalked that up to Sissy's extraordinary taste in such things.  
  
Olivia had received a book on Arithmancy from her mother, who hoped that her daughter would choose the subject for the next term. Olivia was certainly thinking about it. No one could deny that she was unusually good with numbers, and the book, which was a beginner's guide, was fascinating.  
  
In a similar vein Corinna had got three very different books on Divinations from Martin, Sophia, and a secret admirer that she suspected was Joseph Mallaghan. One was on the topic of dreams, another was about visions and visitations, and the other was a how-to book on Palmistry. She had finished up with the book she had borrowed from the professor over the holidays and would be returning it the next Saturday.  
  
Martin, who had spent Christmas with his parents and his uncle, had received far less academic books by the girls' standards, including a leather-bound volume of Muggle fairy tales that his father had called 'comparative reading' and a thin book on Astronomy that he thought would help him with his rather intermittent lessons. The girls found it to be too elementary. His uncle had given also him a chess set of the wizarding type.  
  
Obviously, it had been a very good Christmas for the young witches and wizard, which was helped along by a large package of sweets from Sissy's mother, who Martin still could not believe was a Slytherin.  
  
The night before classes started again, they all decided to stay up for a bit, after the lights had dimmed and they were meant to be in bed, to talk for a while by the fire without the distraction of their house mates, all of whom were just as eager as they were to return to class.  
  
Martin smiled as he found himself neatly sandwiched between Sophia and Olivia on the couch. He could relax again, even knowing that his mother would be teaching the very next day and teaching _him_ the day after that. The girls, none of whom had met his mother yet because of his until recently impending nervous breakdown, didn't seem to be bothered or out of sorts at all, and he liked that and drew comfort from it.  
  
Until Olivia elbowed him in the ribs and said, "I'm really looking forward to having a class with your mum. I bet she's really interesting."  
  
Martin just closed his eyes and retorted, "You won't be saying that after. She's not as barmy as my father. In fact she was rather strict with my lessons. It comes from her being an Auror. But you'll see."  
  
"Olivia, maybe Martin doesn't want to talk about the situation," suggested Sophia, who was perhaps a bit more aware of how Martin felt. Or maybe she was more sensitive because she had not been around during the holidays to enjoy his constant moping.  
  
"You think?" snorted Sissy from her chair.  
  
"Sorry," Olivia muttered.  
  
"It's all right," said Martin, leaning back and opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "I mean, at least it can't get any worse, right?" he asked.  
  
"Don't ever say that," said Corinna in a quiet voice.  
  
Sophia gave a meaningful shudder and glanced at her friends. Sissy looked unbothered, except that she was wringing her throw in her hands instead of straightening it. Olivia was staring into the fire with a look of dread. Martin had a blank expression on his face.  
  
"Care to explain?" asked Martin.  
  
"I can't," Corinna shrugged. "It's just that the vampire ... you know, hasn't fed in a while," she said nervously.  
  
"Uncle Alastor has been looking for signs of it in the forest and patrolling the corridors during the hols. We're safe," said Martin firmly.  
  
He chose not to mention the fact that the vampire was very elusive and nearly impossible for a lone Auror to track. His mother had offered to assist Alastor, but he had turned her down on account of the fact that she had taken leave to teach and needed to prepare. Martin thought the he was possibly trying to protect her as well, though in Martin's opinion, his mum could take care of herself.  
  
"I don't know about that," said Sissy with a hint of doubt in her voice. "It is a very powerful creature," she added, thinking about what it had done to Professor Knowles. That still made her shiver a bit.  
  
"I agree," said Corinna.  
  
"Well, maybe it's gone. Given up or something," shrugged Martin.  
  
"I hope so," said Sophia, who really didn't care for the topic of discussion. It was going to give them all nightmares or something.  
  
Corinna shifted uncomfortably on the divan and said, "We aren't rid of it yet. I'm certain about that."  
  
Sissy regarded her a bit coolly and said, "If you know something, you should tell us. It might be of some use."  
  
"I only know that it's coming back. I don't know when, but it must be soon, or why would I know about it already?" she asked, looking at Martin. "And I think ... I know it's going to hurt Martin's uncle," she added. Corinna held her breath, waiting for him to be angry.  
  
"How bad?" he asked quietly. He wasn't exactly surprised, and he certainly wasn't angry at Corinna for telling him that. He merely felt concerned and anxious. For that moment he didn't even think to doubt her.  
  
Corinna closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.  
  
"But shouldn't we warn him?" asked Sophia.  
  
"I don't know if it would help," Corinna replied.  
  
Martin knew what she meant about that. When they had tried to save Olivia from the vampire early in the term, his own life had been inadvertently risked, not that he minded so much now as everything had worked out as well as could be expected, except for Zabini, but that had probably been inevitable. He knew that Corinna was reluctant to attempt to change the future on more than a very small scale because the results were more than a little unpredictable. He wanted to be able to help his uncle, but he could hardly blame her for being reluctant. He was torn, as he also imagined Corinna was too.  
  
"If we have some time ... perhaps you could try and think of a way," suggested Martin.  
  
"I've been trying. I've even talked to Professor Mallaghan about it a bit," Corinna admitted. "I'm not certain, but I think he would want me to warn your uncle, but ... I don't want to do anything that could make this worse."  
  
"You could always tell Martin and let him decide," offered Olivia.  
  
"That's rather unfair though, isn't it? Shifting the burden," said Sissy with a carefully arched eyebrow.  
  
"Tell all of us and decide by consensus?" asked Sophia.  
  
"I'd rather not," said Corinna quietly, sitting up and looking very sad and pensive.  
  
"Not yet?" asked Martin.  
  
"Right," she nodded.  
  
"I think it's about time we go to bed," said Sophia. The conversation had turned too morbid for her liking long ago. "We do have classes tomorrow," she added as she stood and stretched.  
  
"Of course," Martin agreed with her, though he was anxious to continue his conversation with Corinna. "It can wait," he told himself as he walked toward his own dormitory.  
  
The next day went by uneventfully, which was something that the young Ravenclaws had come to be grateful for, but the day after that Martin found himself feeling a familiar sense of dread. It was one that he knew from the beginning of his time at Hogwarts, which had been a scant four months earlier. Then it had been associated with attempting to do his best under the watchful eye of his father. Now its source was his other parent, though it hardly made any difference. The feeling of worry and awkwardness was much the same.  
  
"But she taught you at home, didn't she?" asked Olivia as they stood outside the classroom after lunch.  
  
Martin had got out of eating with his father, who was helping his mum with her curriculum as she had patently refused to continue with his lesson plans.  
  
"A bit, but that wasn't in front of other people," he objected sullenly.  
  
"Hardly anyone knows she's your mum," Sissy pointed out very quietly.  
  
Martin glanced at the Gryffindor students who were waiting a good distance from them and thought, "Well, they won't be figuring it out, and even if they did, she is their head of house now ..." That was the nicest thought he had had in days.  
  
"You still haven't let us meet her," Olivia said with a slight pout. She had been saying such things since Christmas.  
  
"After class?" he questioned.  
  
"You've got to go to defense," said Sophia, "and you shouldn't be late because of us. It wouldn't be fair."  
  
"Maybe some other time then," Martin shrugged.  
  
"Let's go inside. We're wasting time," said Sissy, watching the Gryffindors moving toward the door.  
  
As they followed the other students inside, Martin spotted a gray tabby with peculiar markings lying on the desk at the front of the room. The cat appeared to be taking secretive glances at the class roster as the students entered. The feline glanced up at Martin and blinked warmly before resuming what it was doing.  
  
As Martin and the girls sat down at their usual tables, Corinna commented, "What an unusual cat! Does it belong to the professor?"  
  
Martin flushed an odd shade of pink, snatched a quill and scrap of parchment from his bag, and penned the following words to her: "_That cat is my mother. Act surprised and impressed when she transforms_."  
  
Corinna raised her eyebrows and tried to avoid looking at the cat again. She would surely give away that she _knew_ if she did. She busied herself as best she could with her textbook.  
  
Of course, the Gryffindors had no one to warn them. Martin grimaced as Lucy Withers glanced quickly at the open classroom door and left her seat, obviously meaning to have a closer look at the cat on the desk before the new instructor appeared. He tried to think of some way to warn her, but it was too late.  
  
"Aren't you a sweety," the Gryffindor cooed softly, reaching to scratch the cat behind the ears.  
  
The cat looked rather startled and shot up from its prone position, backing away from the girl with an uncommonly affronted expression on its face. The second year giggled.  
  
"Oy, Withers," called Li Chang, "you don't want to be out of your seat when the new prof comes in, do you?"  
  
Martin couldn't say what Chang's interest in the matter was, except maybe that he seemed to get along with her in class, but Lucy turned and said in response, "Don't bully me. There's still a minute or so before class starts."  
  
There was a soft pop behind her and all the students gasped ... before they began laughing and clapping. Miss Withers turned to see Professor McGonagall seated on her desk with a slightly wry look on her face. Martin grinned slightly at this.  
  
"To your seat, Miss Winters, and in the future, leave any animal you might find in this classroom strictly alone," said the new Transfigurations' professor.  
  
"Yes, Professor," stammered Lucy, very much embarrassed by the whole thing. "That was brilliant," Sissy whispered to Martin with a very impressed and approving look.  
  
"As you may have guessed, I am taking over this class for Professor Dumbledore, who is now headmaster of this school. I have been briefed regarding his lesson plans and so forth for the class, and I have found them wanting. As of today you will be receiving more rigorous assignments that are better suited to your year and, hopefully, your skill level. This will require more reading, preparation, and studying on your parts. Since you have had it relatively easy until now, I expect no complaints nor any shilly-shallying regarding what is expected from you," stated Professor McGonagall crisply.  
  
"But this class should be a far more rewarding experience for you and a test of your talents in the area of magic known as Transfigurations, which unlike potions or astronomy, is an art and not a science. It is a subtle form of magic that has through the ages come to serve wizarding kind well and is an integral part of your magical education," she continued.  
  
"Have you any question?" she asked after pausing to take a breath.  
  
A Gryffindor shyly raised his hand, and she nodded for him to ask his question.  
  
"Are we going to learn what you just did?" he asked in a very hopeful tone.  
  
"Studying to be an Animagus takes years of dedication and hard work. I am afraid that all of you are too young to begin this training, but perhaps in two or three years you may begin your studies in this area," she answered coolly, though Martin could tell that this was not the sort of question she had been hoping for.  
  
"Will you be here in two years, professor?" the young wizard asked with a frown.  
  
"Most likely, no, but your next instructor should be able to teach all who are interested," she replied. "Are there any questions regarding my expectations or the curriculum?" she inquired, glancing toward the Ravenclaws.  
  
"Are we still doing the same sort of transfigurations? Living to nonliving material and vice versa?" asked Sissy, who had a mildly insouciant look on her face after listening to McGonagall's speech to them.  
  
She could hardly believe that this woman with her carefully pinned hair and air of strictness and propriety had been an Auror, much less a good one. As for her being Martin's mother ... She just couldn't see that either. Sissy felt certain that there had been some mistake.  
  
"No, I'm afraid we will be doing a wide variety of transfigurations, some of which may fall into to those categories. I've designed a curriculum for the rest of the term with skill level in mind instead of such a narrow range of exercises," answered McGonagall patiently.  
  
Sissy frowned a little and asked, "And our marks? Will those remain the same?"  
  
"For the work you have completed thus far, yes, but I will be grading on a stricter scale than my predecessor," she answered.  
  
The professor waited for more questions, but there were none, or at least none that her new students were willing to voice.  
  
"Let's begin ..." said McGonagall, glancing at the papers on her desk. "Please open your books to page three hundred and forty-eight and read the next ten pages," she instructed.  
  
The next twenty minutes or so was spent reading. The girls rather resented this as they were well-versed in the contents of their textbook and were rather bored by reading that section of text again. Corinna could almost swear that she knew the wooden object to glass object section by heart and was not at all daunted by the transfiguration of beaker-to-bookend recommended by the book. The other girls, not to mention Martin, felt much the same way.  
  
"Now for a bit of practicum," McGonagall announced once she had realized that everyone had finished. "Please choose a partner and take a glass beaker from the shelf over there," she told them.  
  
Martin sat down to work with Sophia and Olivia as usual. They would be sharing a beaker among the three of them. He felt quite nervous and hoped that the object was strong enough to take it.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore, as you are part of a group of three, may I suggest working with Misters Shacklebolt and O'Rourke," said the professor, pointing to two students in her own house. She looked a bit smug at having remembered their names.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore always let me work with ..." he began to explain uncomfortably.  
  
"I'm not interested in what your father did in this class. The Gryffindors do not bite," she said, pursing her lips slightly.  
  
"Yes, professor," Martin agreed reluctantly.  
  
He couldn't understand why his mother was doing this, but he moved to join the two Gryffindors, who looked amused, but not unfriendly. Glancing back at the girls, he saw that they all appeared to be baffled as well.  
  
"Tough shakes, eh?" asked Shacklebolt, gesturing for him to have a seat.  
  
By the end of the lesson, he had reduced the glass container to bubbling brown goo seven times while his partners had completed the transfiguration correctly on their second try, both of them.  
  
After class Martin said good-bye to the girls, who were finished for the day and off to the library to begin studying, and decided to speak to his mother for a moment. He was dying to know why she had separated him from his friends.  
  
"Mum?" he asked after the classroom had cleared out. The next class would be there soon, he suspected.  
  
"Yes, Martin?" she asked with smile, putting on her reading glasses for a moment as she examined a note her husband had made concerning the next class.  
  
"Why couldn't I work with Olivia and Sophia?" he asked bluntly.  
  
Minerva looked up and frowned slightly.  
  
"You wanted to work with them?"  
  
"Yes," he nodded.  
  
"I understand that they are your house mates, but they are a year older than you and young witches," she said with a puzzled look on her face.  
  
"And my friends. I've written you about them. I thought father might've too," he said with a note of confusion and exasperation in his voice. "I don't expect special treatment, but ..." he started to say.  
  
His mother held up her hand and smiled. She looked a bit embarrassed.  
  
"You never said that these friends of yours were _older_ girls, Martin, I just assumed that they were first year students as well ..." she shrugged.  
  
"Well, those four Ravenclaw girls are the friends I've told you about. They've been really great to me this term, and they want to meet you," said Martin, feeling a little relieved and hoping that his mum wouldn't make him work with the Gryffindors again. It wasn't that he disliked them; he just found them a bit awkward to work with after becoming so accustomed to the Ravenclaw way of doing things.  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled and said, "Bring them by my office ... your father's old office ... after four o'clock, if you want. I would be glad to meet any of your friends."  
  
Martin remembered that Corinna didn't start Quidditch practice again until the next week and said, "I'll do that, unless they're busy or something."  
  
"Very good," she nodded.  
  
"I've got to run to class now, mum," he said, suddenly conscious of how far it was to the defense classroom. He would very nearly have to run.  
  
Later that afternoon the four girls found themselves standing outside the office of the newly appointed Gryffindor head of house, waiting for Martin to summon the courage to knock. He was a bit jittery about his mother meeting his friends, although he couldn't say why it bothered him exactly. Perhaps it was the look of annoyance on Sissy's face regarding the earlier lesson. Or maybe the way Corinna was fidgeting and trying to make her hair look less messy. Or the way Olivia was anxiously chewing her lower lip. Or how Sophia was smoothing her already wrinkle-free robes.  
  
After a nudge from Olivia, Martin knocked on the door and stepped back slightly.  
  
"Come in," called his mum from within the office.  
  
Martin opened the door and ushered the girls inside with a murmured, "Ladies first."  
  
Stepping into the office, Olivia was a little surprised to find that it was done completely in Gryffindor colors. Martin was more than a little surprised as he had been rather accustomed to the hodgepodge of hues and colors that had defined the office when his father had been the professor of Transfigurations and Gryffindor's head of house. His mother had obviously changed all the colors herself.  
  
"I've had the house elves bring up some tea and ginger newts," said Professor McGonagall, transfiguring the table by the window into one that would seat six comfortably. There were already plenty of chairs.  
  
"Thank you, professor," said Sissy, noticing that Martin was too busy gaping.  
  
"I must admit that Martin has told me a lot about all of you, although he failed to mention that his closest friends were second years," said McGonagall with very prim smile. "A lot of confusion could have been avoided," she added, gesturing for them to have a seat.  
  
A look of comprehension flashed in both Sissy and Sophia's eyes. Sissy relaxed noticeably. She had been concerned that Professor McGonagall did not like them or resented their friendship with her son. Obviously this was not the case. Sophia had been likewise concerned. Of course, Sissy still had her doubts about Professor McGonagall, but those simple words had eased the most pertinent of them. She was, after all, only a temporary instructor.  
  
"Martin's been great this year," said Olivia, grabbing a ginger newt and grinning. "I don't know what we would do without him," she added.  
  
"Have a very boring year?" commented Corinna with a half-smile.  
  
"We've had quite a few adventures together," said Martin with a slight blush.  
  
"I wouldn't call them adventures, Martin," said McGonagall with a trace of sternness in her voice. "I would call some of them nearly tragic incidents."  
  
Sissy frowned and said, "Surely you aren't blaming Martin, professor? I mean, there is a vampire on the loose."  
  
"Not at all," said the professor.  
  
Martin, desperate to steer the conversation into less turbulent waters, commented, "They've certainly helped me with my studies. I bet I'm ahead of nearly every student in my year in Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
"And Transfigurations," added Olivia. Then remembering the lesson that afternoon, she added, "Well, usually he is."  
  
"Defense, Martin? I thought you didn't like that sort of thing," commented Minerva with a slightly confused frown.  
  
"I ... I don't like it per se, but Sissy is so great at it and I've learned a lot from watching her," he stammered awkwardly.  
  
Sissy could not help looking smug as she took a sip of her tea.  
  
Professor McGonagall seemed to look at her oddly for a moment before commenting, "Your father must be very proud. Defense was one of his better subjects too, although ..."  
  
"... he seems to be good at everything," Martin finished for her with a half-smile.  
  
"Is Martin a lot like Professor Dumbledore?" asked Olivia as McGonagall chuckled in agreement.  
  
"Oh, yes, he's his father's son in many ways," Minerva replied.  
  
"Then why does he always say I'm just like you?" asked Martin.  
  
"Your father has an interesting sense of humor, or hadn't you noticed?" she questioned with an affectionate smile.  
  
Sophia and Olivia giggled quietly at this.  
  
"What was Martin like as a child?" asked Corinna curiously.  
  
Martin went scarlet to the ears and hastily told them, "I was just like I am now."  
  
"Oh, don't be so bashful," said his mother. "Let's see ... he spoke fluent house elvish at one time. I believe it was when he was about four years old. It was very cute, although it required some years to break him of the er, ... habit of speaking it."  
  
"Mum!" protested Martin indignantly.  
  
"Can you still do it?" asked Olivia with a huge grin.  
  
"No," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, although this was not, strictly speaking, the truth.  
  
"What else did Martin do?" asked Sissy with a sly look. She was hoping for some good blackmail material. Merely speaking house elvish did not quite cut it.  
  
"When he was small, he would hide his father's spectacles. I don't understand why, but we would find them in the strangest places," said his mother thoughtfully. "On the bookshelves, tucked between the sofa cushions, underneath his bed ... His father and I almost never found them when he slipped them into the broom closet."  
  
The girls all grinned at him, but Martin felt that he'd rather die than hear how cute they thought it was. Olivia pinched him and tittered quietly. He knew he would never live it down.  
  
"I think he did it to keep his father at home," Minerva admitted, shaking her head.  
  
"I can't remember," he mumbled, but he suspected that this was the truth.  
  
"Professor, I think you're embarrassing him," said Sophia, although she found it just as amusing as the other girls. She hid a smile behind her hand.  
  
"Perhaps you're right," sighed Professor McGonagall, "but he's growing up so fast. Soon I'll be telling these stories to his..."  
  
"Mum!" Martin objected, practically glowing scarlet.  
  
Corinna and Olivia laughed out loud at this, but Sissy only looked prim and vaguely amused. Sophia was still trying to hide a wide grin behind her hand.  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled too and said, "I suppose I shouldn't keep all you any longer as I'm sure you have assignments that need to be completed, but it was wonderful meeting my son's friends."  
  
"Thank you, professor," said Sissy with a slight nod.  
  
The others echoed her statement, except Martin who was glowering slightly.  
  
McGonagall escorted them to the door and as they left Martin asked, "Did you really have to tell them about Father's glasses?"  
  
"Of course, dear," she said with a prim look. "Just be grateful that I didn't tell them anything _really_ embarrassing."  
  
Martin went slightly pink again and hurried after the girls.

* * *

A/N: That was mostly a transitional chapter.  
  
Archaos: I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Charles RocketBoy: The Chamber was opened in 1942, so this isn't really a backstory. As for Arthur seeming too old, this was mostly written before the interview that gave ages to the elder Weasley children, so I had estimated Bill being in his early thirties. But you're right; that would put Arthur right at 60 at the end of OotP, which seems about five years or so off. Thanks for the review!  
  
darksabernight: It was never my intention to allow Corinna to use her gift to be better at Quidditch. The game is much too fast and changeable/dynamic for that. Also, giving her, dare I say, Jedi-esque powers would have made her seem like a Mary Sue. Interesting thought though. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
HMT: It would have to be the far distant future if you do. Thank you for the review!  
  



	43. A night of blood and pain

Chapter Forty-three  
  
A night of blood and pain  
  
Several weeks passed with steady improvement, especially for Martin, who was beginning to do well in Transfigurations again. He was forced to admit that his mother was a hard taskmistress, piling assignment after assignment upon his class, not to mention her more advanced classes. They were beginning to resent her, even the Ravenclaws, or so Martin gathered from overheard conversations in the common room and elsewhere. The girls were taking the change in stride, although Olivia was starting to suffer from headaches due to the additional teeth grinding caused by Professor McGonagall and her teaching methods. The other girls were rather impressed by the grueling pace and struggled to prove themselves by keeping up, not to mention the fact that they were helping Olivia and, to an only slightly lesser degree, Martin to do the same.  
  
And thoughts of the vampire eventually drifted to the very backs of their minds as they settled into a steady routine of classes, studying, occasional games of wizard's chess, and more frequent late night chats that revolved around the next Quidditch match and classes instead of the undead fiend lurking in the forest.  
  
The better part of a month had passed when the girls and Martin found themselves walking through the corridors in the late afternoon on their way from the library to the Aerie.  
  
Sissy, who had received very high marks on her defense assignment, which Professor Knowles had finally returned, was wearing a smug sort of smile that annoyed Olivia and Sophia, whose marks were quite good, but obviously nothing compared to their friend's effort, who had been a solid O. They could not quite ascertain how Knowles had read the assignments, much less marked them. It was a little mystery, though none of them, except perhaps Sissy, had any interest in delving into the matter.  
  
Corinna, who was being subjected to _daily_ morning practice sessions due to evening curfew restrictions on the Quidditch teams, was still yawning, not having quite adjusted to this part of her life yet. Around four o'clock or so she would begin to look bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, although this did not stop her from joining the late night talks, which might have been just as problematic for her as the early practices. Clearly, she wasn't getting enough sleep.  
  
As they made their way toward the tower, they paused at a window that looked out of the grounds. A snowstorm of some magnitude had blown in from the north that afternoon, covering the school with inches of snow and dark, forbidding clouds. Corinna frowned as she stood there sandwiched between Martin and Olivia, watching the snow as it fell and obscured their view.  
  
"Something's wrong," she stated simply.  
  
Sissy looked over Olivia's head at her and asked, "Expecting an invasion of Yeti are we?"  
  
"Where is your uncle?" Corinna asked Martin.  
  
He felt a sudden chill, but it wasn't from the frigid weather outside. Something in her tone and expression frightened him more than he thought it really should have.  
  
"I don't know," he replied with a blank look.  
  
"We should find him," she said, stepping away from the window.  
  
Sissy noted that she looked more pale than usual and anxious as well. The sleepiness was gone too.  
  
"Tell us why," said Sissy.  
  
Corinna opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned suddenly and looked down the long corridor. At the very end stood a heavily robed figure with a hood drawn over its face. She pointed a trembling hand toward it without uttering another word.  
  
Olivia and Martin gasped aloud, recognizing the shape: the vampire. For a moment Olivia fervently prayed that it was just Zabini on his way to his evening lessons. But she knew better. This was a familiar tall, gaunt figure that was much more imposing than young Zabini, who always wore school robes and house colors, even during the hours when he required an extra cloak as protection against the sunlight that filtered through the windows on less cloudy days.  
  
Sissy snapped into action as she realized that it was moving toward them with eerie, gliding paces as its footsteps made no sound upon the stone.  
  
"Run. I think I can hold it off ..." she began to tell them, grabbing Sophia and Corinna by the arms and thrusting them toward the opposite end of the corridor and away from the approaching vampire.  
  
"No," said Sophia, though she desperately wanted to do exactly as Sissy suggested. She wanted to run, but to leave any of their number behind was unthinkable.  
  
"You're mad!" exclaimed Martin, having the same thoughts as he grabbed Sissy and began pushing her in the same direction as the other girls.  
  
Olivia needed no prompting, pointing frantically toward the stairs leading more or less in the direction of Moody's rooms. "Come on!" she nearly shrieked.  
  
They all knew what she meant, and it wasn't a bad plan. The safest place in the school for them was probably the well-warded and portrait-guarded Aerie, but failing that, Alastor seemed capable of protecting them.  
  
Corinna had turned nearly ashen, but followed as they began hastening toward the stairs at the nearer end of the passage.  
  
Sissy dropped back and took a deep breath before casting a spell: "_Caminus_!"  
  
A thin wall of flame sprang up from the stone floor of the castle, stretching from wall to wall and cutting the vampire off. Or so Sissy hoped. She knew they generally hated fire, but she also imagined that the vampire would have very little trouble freezing the flames or extinguishing them. But if that bought them more time, it was well worth the effort.  
  
"Hurry!" called Martin anxiously, pausing on the bottom step to wait for her even as he pushed Corinna ahead of him.  
  
Sissy quickened her pace and dashed up the stairs after her friends, all of whom had followed her example and drawn their wands. She smiled grimly, knowing that they would not go down without a fight.  
  
A few frantic minutes later they reached the quarters belonging to Mister Moody, not knowing whether they were still being pursued or not. Martin hurriedly, but quietly spoke his password, thrust the door open, and all five of them piled into the sitting room. Martin closed the door hard behind them and made sure the lock caught. He was breathing heavily, nearly panting. They all were, and not just from the run.  
  
"Alastor?" Martin called loudly.  
  
His slightly shrill voice echoed off the walls, but there was no reply. His uncle wasn't in his chambers. The fire had burned low in the hearth, which meant that Alastor had probably been out for hours. There was no way of knowing where he had gone nor when he would return.  
  
"What are we going to do?" asked Olivia plaintively, twisting her fingers together in dismay even as she clutched at her wand.  
  
The other girls were staring at Martin as well, except, of course, for Sissy who had rushed to the window to check the latch and make sure they were secure. There was no way to be certain that the room was as well warded as the dormitories, although if she had known Martin's uncle a bit better, she would have realized that she had no need for concern there.  
  
"We're safe. It can't get in," said Martin in a firm voice. The fear he felt was carefully and almost completely masked in that instant. He was certain that the rooms were safe. Alastor had told him that he would be safe there. He trusted his uncle and his wards.  
  
"But it is in the castle," said Sissy, taking a deep, calming breath. "We should attempt to warn ... someone."  
  
"We can't go back out there," said Sophia quickly.  
  
"I know that," answered Sissy very sharply before turning toward the fireplace where there was a small pot of floo powder on the mantle.  
  
Martin took her meaning and asked, "Who? My father? Mum?"  
  
"Your father would be my first choice. He could alert the other professors and your uncle quite easily I should think," answered Sissy, walking over to the fireplace with Martin at her heels. She grabbed the jar of floo powder and handed it to Martin. "Hurry," she urged without her voice losing any of its calm clarity.  
  
The other girls gathered around as Martin cleared his throat, tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace, and said, "Headmaster's office."  
  
He then stuck his head into the fire, noticing that his shoulders wouldn't quite fit. The floo was set up for talking only; no one could enter or leave through it. He considered this, at that moment, both a blessing and a curse, for while the vampire could not get in that way, neither could they get out.  
  
The office was empty, as far as Martin could tell, except for his father's phoenix, which was sleeping with its scarlet head tucked under one wing.  
  
"Father?" Martin called, rousing the magnificent bird, which regarded him with disapproval and dignified annoyance, which was, of course, how the bird nearly always looked at him.  
  
There was no reply. His father, whom Martin knew was a very busy wizard, was obviously elsewhere. Martin sighed to himself and looked to the phoenix, which was still staring.  
  
"Fawkes, do you know where my father is?" he asked the phoenix hopefully.  
  
It blinked at him coolly and let off a trilling note. Martin wasn't sure if this was an affirmative or not. After all, no one of his tender years could claim to be fluent in phoenix.  
  
"I really need his help ..." Martin hinted.  
  
Fawkes ruffled his feathers and flew out the nearest window. Martin was sincerely hoping that it had gone for help and that he had not merely bored or offended it.  
  
Pulling his head from the fireplace, Martin looked at the girls and said, "He isn't in his office."  
  
"He could be anywhere in the castle then," said Sissy with a grim look. "Try your mother's office," she suggested.  
  
Martin nodded and took another handful of powder before trying again.  
  
The office of the transfigurations' professor was very dimly lit, almost dark, and a bit chilly. No one, he imagined, had been there for hours, least of all his mum, who would not have approved of the chilliness. He remembered then that she liked to mark papers in her classroom in the afternoons and was probably there. His heart sank. The classroom didn't have floo access, did it?  
  
"No luck," he said as he removed his head from the hearth.  
  
"We can't call Knowles," said Olivia as Sissy started to open her mouth. "We need someone who can stop the vampire," she added.  
  
Sissy narrowed her eyes and said, "He would know where everyone's got off to."  
  
"Yeah, perhaps," said Olivia, "but wouldn't he mostly likely try to stop it himself? I can't imagine that ending nicely for him nor for us." She had a good point, which Sissy acknowledged only privately as she continued to glower just a bit.  
  
"Professor Krohn..." suggested Sophia, who had taken up Olivia's habit of wringing her hands as she glanced uncomfortably toward the door.  
  
She knew quite well that he was not the best person to _fight_ a vampire, but she also knew that he would readily sound the alarm, and after nearly losing a student to the creature, he would take the threat quite seriously.  
  
Martin nodded, remembering how un-Slytherin his conduct had been when dealing with Sophia and the curse Black had used on her. He had been rather brave then in Martin's opinion. Of course, they were also becoming desperate and as beggars they couldn't be choosers. Time was of the essence here. He handed the pot of floo powder to Sophia and moved out of her way.  
  
"Professor Krohn," she said, sticking her head into the fireplace. Sophia would never have mentioned it, but despite growing up in a wizarding household, it was her first time using a floo like this. It was more than a little disconcerting for her.  
  
A few rather confusing moments later she saw Krohn seated in front of her on what looked like a very comfortable green sofa, obviously enjoying a few quiet moments by the fire and sipping what appeared to be cognac. He had already taken his hair down, letting it spill onto the back of the sofa behind him and into his closed eyes. The professor appeared to be very relaxed and restful. If not for the urgency of the situation, Sophia would certainly have never dreamed of disturbing him.  
  
"Sir," she said timidly to get his attention.  
  
Krohn started and nearly spilled his drink as he sat up and glared at her.  
  
"This is highly inappropriate, Miss Colville. These are my _personal_ chambers! How did you get floo access to them? I demand an explanation," he said, setting the drink aside and hastily buttoning the top buttons of his robes.  
  
"We ... My friends and I have been chased by the vampire. We've taken refuge in Mister Moody's rooms, but he isn't here and we can't contact the headmaster," she explained as swiftly as she could.  
  
"The vampire? In the castle? Where?" he asked as the glare dissolved.  
  
"We saw it in the corridor a level down, but Sissy put up a wall of fire to stop it ... so that we could escape ... I don't know where it is now, professor, but we're ... concerned and thought someone should be alerted," she said in a calm and even tone that she was even surprised she could manage given the situation.  
  
She noticed a slight twitch of Krohn's lips before he spoke. If the situation had not been so serious, he would have found her cool collectedness, her near nonchalance, quite comical.  
  
"Good thinking. I'll alert the staff. Stay there until someone comes for you. Don't do anything foolish and tell your friends to do the same," he said, leaving the couch. "And you may want to block that floo ... unless Moody had the foresight to ward it against unauthorized entry," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Of course," she agreed, watching him race toward the door.  
  
Sophia sneezed as she pulled her head from the flames. There was a lot of floo powder in the air, and it made her nose a bit itchy.  
  
"Well? Well?" asked Olivia impatiently.  
  
"It's taken care of. Professor Krohn has gone to warn everyone. He wants us to stay here in the meantime," answered Sophia.  
  
"No chance of us going anywhere," scoffed Olivia before collapsing heavily onto the couch. In her case the fright was obviously starting to wear off.  
  
Martin was about to agree whole-heartedly with that statement when he noticed Corinna staring fixedly at the door. Her complexion had gone from very pale to a distinctly ashen hue. She looked as though she might be sick at any moment.  
  
"Corinna?" he called hesitantly, starting toward her and hoping she wasn't going to have another vision as he found them rather scary.  
  
"I think ... I think perhaps I should have warned him after all," she said quietly, stepping back from the door with slow, uncertain steps.  
  
Then they heard something that made their blood run cold. A sound like a draft of air blowing through a sepulcher: the approach of the vampire. There was a faint popping sound followed by a rustle of clothing as bat became wizard again in the corridor just outside their hiding place.  
  
"I know you're in there ... Send the boy out, and I will spare the rest of you," said a hissing voice on the other side of the door.  
  
Martin and Corinna recognized that voice immediately. It was the vampire, the creature who had formerly been Professor Somerville and who was once the resident of the room in which they were currently cowering.  
  
Corinna shrank back even further from the door, but Sissy left her place near the hearth and approached it instead, remembering that the vampire could most likely not Legilimence her through the door. She pushed Martin toward the couch and gestured for Olivia and Sophia to stay where they were.  
  
"You are not welcome here. Go back to where ever you came from," said Sissy in the most firm and composed tone she could manage. To her friends, she sounded very brave and utterly fearless.  
  
The door knob rattled, but did not turn. There was a soft hiss.  
  
"To whom do I speak?" asked the vampire.  
  
"To the one who nearly knocked you on your undead arse earlier in the term," she said, "and by Merlin I'll do it again if you don't leave us alone."  
  
Sissy was doing her best to be brave, not because she _was_ brave or even felt brave, but because nothing could be gained through cringing or being afraid. But to be perfectly fair, Sissy was just as terrified as the rest of them, except perhaps Corinna, who seemed scared half to death, though not necessarily of just the vampire itself. She obviously had a lot on her mind. Sissy, however, was strictly speaking very afraid of what would happen to them, Martin especially, should the vampire gain entry to the room and trying her best not to show her fear.  
  
"Ah... awfully brave, aren't you? We'll see how you feel when I have this door down," said the vampire in a perilous tone that was seething with cold fury.  
  
Sissy heard it whisper an unlocking spell, but it was to no avail; Moody had warded the door too well for that. Only the password or sheer brute force would open it from without. Her mouth went dry at the thought of the vampire forcing the door. She knew that vampires were often credited with having super-human strength.  
  
"A barricade. We need a barricade," she said out loud, but to no one in particular, suddenly eyeing the furniture.  
  
Sophia must have recognized the look in her eyes because she sprang up and immediately shooed Olivia off the couch, drawing her wand as she did so. Sissy favored her with a grim smile.  
  
"Toward the door," Sissy explained to the others in a low voice. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" she said, levitating the sofa.  
  
Sophia spoke the incantation as well, helping Sissy to move the heavy sofa in front of the door before they released it and wedged it against the only conventional entrance to the room.  
  
Martin and Olivia were quick to grab a small endtable between them, although considering the situation, and the fact that of the two of them only Olivia was proficient at using a levitation charm on such a large object, used their hands instead of their wands. They placed it on top of the sofa, leaned against the door, which rattled again as the vampire tried another spell.  
  
Then Martin heard a sound that inspired both elation and cold apprehension in equal measure, making his heart seem to leap and plummet at the same moment.  
  
"You! Get away from there!" barked the voice of Alastor Moody in the hallway.   
  
The loud shout was quickly followed by a strong hex and an agonized shriek from the vampire. Possibly a mere mortal would have been done for at that point, but this was no mere wizard. Instead of fleeing or succumbing to the hex, the vampire fired an unfamiliar spell back at Moody.  
  
"It's a duel," said Sissy as incantations were flung back and forth at a remarkable speed that was faster than even she could follow. She only managed to pick out a few defensive spells, blocking spells and shielding charms, interspersed between strong hexes and wicked curses that no other second year would even have recognized as such.  
  
Martin shivered and moved closer to the barricade to listen as the Auror fought their undead foe. His heart was hammering in his chest as he waited for Alastor to finish the creature.  
  
"_Reducto_!" they heard the vampire shout moments later.  
  
The spell was followed by a loud, howling cry of pain and anguish from Moody and a marginally quieter thud of something heavy hitting the floor. Another sound that Martin did not recognize, like a splattering sound, had accompanied this, but he paid it no heed as he started to remove the table. Whatever had happened, his Uncle Alastor needed his help. He knew that much and was determined to go to his aid.  
  
"Stop," said Sissy, grabbing him by the shoulders and jerking him away from the couch and the door. Olivia and Sophia grabbed his arms to help her.  
  
"I've got to ..." he began in a panicked voice, struggling blindly against his friends.  
  
"No," Corinna interrupted, "you can't, Martin." She stepped in front of Martin and wrapped her arms tightly around his chest to assist the others in restraining him.  
  
They could not allow him to open the door under any circumstances. No matter what had just happened to Mister Moody, they couldn't let him into the corridor. They couldn't help him, but they could try to protect Martin.  
  
Martin continued to struggle against his friends as silence settled in the hallway outside. No more hexes nor curses. Nothing.  
  
"Let go," he pleaded with Sissy, who had the strongest grip. He was sure than without her pinching fingers knotting his robes and digging into his shoulders, he could have thrown the other girls off in an instant. Perhaps he underestimated them.  
  
"Martin ... you can't help him. Be sensible," she said through clenched teeth.  
  
A disturbing, malevolent chuckle from outside made his heart pound in terror.  
  
"So predictable," said the vampire contemptuously. "_Caerphilly Catapults_," he said in a derisive tone.  
  
The Catapults, who were having a wonderful season so far that year, were Moody's favorite team, but to Martin's knowledge he never talked about Quidditch all that much, making the team name a very handy password. Not that that bit of knowledge mattered so much at the moment...  
  
"Legilimency," whispered Sissy, realizing how the vampire had got the password from Moody.  
  
The door began to creak open, but it was stopped by the barrier they had erected and did not budge more than half an inch. They all moved back from the door, Martin somewhat unwillingly. He could hardly breathe as he thought of his uncle, who was possibly lying dead in the corridor, and of what would happened to all of them when the vampire finally found a way to force the door. His blood ran cold as he imagined what it would do to the young witches, especially impertinent Sissy.  
  
Pale fingers grasped the door to pry it open. Corinna made a frightened squeaking sound and pressed her face into Martin's shoulder. He closed his eyes and began preparing himself for a fight, though Sophia still had him by his wand arm. Sissy released his right shoulder to go for her wand and was about to tell her friends to do the same.  
  
But then they heard the sound of running feet and frantic voices outside in the corridor. Martin recognized his father's voice among them as well as Krohn, Flitwick, and, surprisingly, Knowles. The pale fingers disappeared from the door and the vampire could be heard as well, tossing curses willy-nilly at the professors.  
  
"Don't let it get away!" cried the squeaky voice of their head of house above the din.  
  
A chorus of voices shouted _Stupefy_, but by the sound of it, none of the spells connected with the vampire. Sissy imagined, quite rightly, that it had changed into bat form and flown away.  
  
"What happened? What happened? Did we get the creature?" asked Professor Knowles loudly. By the sound of him, he was nearly breathless from their sprint through the corridor.  
  
"Merlin! Alastor!" Martin heard his father say. There was shock and anguish undisguised in his voice.  
  
"His leg ... my God," gasped Krohn.  
  
"Father!" Martin yelled as the girls loosened their grip upon him.  
  
"Stay inside, son," called Dumbledore in a very serious tone.  
  
Martin threw the girls off and grabbed the table, tossing it heedlessly away from the door with a crash.  
  
"Help me move the sofa," he pleaded with his friends. There were tears in his eyes as he tried to budge it on his own. "My uncle, please, you have to..." he said, looking at Sissy and hoping she would understand.  
  
"Martin, listen to your father," said Moody in an anguished voice on the other side of the blocked door.  
  
Corinna gasped aloud and pointed to the floor under the sofa. There was a pool of red liquid slowly oozing its way underneath the door.  
  
"Blood," she said in a sickly voice.  
  
Martin moved away, but his eyes remained riveted in horror. He knew instinctively that the crimson liquid belonged to Alastor. He must have been injured very badly to bleed so much. Martin's ears were ringing, but he could still hear the next order Alastor gave.  
  
"Cauterize it," he said in a hoarse, choking voice.  
  
Sophia made a soft gagging sound and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut, as an incantation was spoken by Professor Dumbledore. Alastor gave a muted cry of agony that they could not fail to hear.  
  
"Alastor?" called Martin in a tremulous voice.  
  
"I think it's safe, but you don't want to go out there," said Corinna, who was holding a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were bulging. "Trust me, Martin, you just don't want to," she said.  
  
Martin could tell that she knew exactly what was going on outside, but that was not enough to dissuade him.  
  
"Please ..." said Martin, tugging at Sissy's sleeve.  
  
"All right," she acquiesced. "If it's safe, then I suppose I shouldn't stop you."  
  
Olivia nodded too, looking very pale and frightened. Between the two of them Olivia and Sissy shifted the sofa far enough from the door for Martin to open it, carefully avoiding the blood, and slip through. Sissy, Sophia, and Olivia followed. Their curiosity overpowered their fear. Corinna remained behind because she knew all too well what awaited them in the corridor.  
  
Martin's stomach lurched at what he saw.  
  
"Alastor?" he whimpered, looking down at where Moody was prone on the floor not far away.  
  
From the knee down Alastor was missing one of his legs, which had been the victim of the Reductor Curse, and had obviously bled profusely before the wound had been cauterized. Professor Dumbledore was kneeling next to the Auror as he had been the one to close the wound. Flitwick was trying very awkwardly to comfort Alastor as he convulsed in pain.  
  
"Laddie, you shouldn't see this," said Alastor through his teeth.  
  
"He's right," said Dumbledore, looking from Martin to the girls, all of whom looked very ill, even Sissy, who was clutching at her stomach, which had turned somersaults upon seeing Moody. "Reynard, get them out of here," instructed Dumbledore.  
  
Sophia looked down the corridor several paces just in time to see Krohn vomit very quietly and unobtrusively in a corner, possibly not for the first time. His complexion appeared to have turned a little green. Sophia, who had nearly been ill as well, felt quite sympathetic as she averted her eyes.  
  
"A moment ..." said Krohn before gagging and retching again.  
  
Knowles frowned and tucked his cane into the crook of his elbow.  
  
"I can take them away from here," he offered, smelling blood in the air, and he was well aware of how much blood it required to tinge the air with its ferric scent. He did not know, but everyone else, including the young students, could see that the walls and the door had been splattered with the substance as well.  
  
Martin ignored the conversation entirely as he knelt next to Alastor. He dashed the tears from his eyes and lifted one of his uncle's hands, squeezing it tightly.  
  
"I'm sorry," Martin whimpered.  
  
"What for? I nearly got him. Ruined his pretty face at any rate," said Moody, shuddering from the pain, which would not dissipate. "Now, go. You go with Knowles like a good lad," he instructed.  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore, "because we'll be moving Alastor to the hospital wing in just a moment."  
  
"I should have warned him," whispered Corinna from behind Olivia and Sissy. She had finally found the courage to join them in the corridor.  
  
"Not your fault," said Olivia, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.  
  
"Come on," said Sissy, grasping Martin by the arm and attempting to pull him up. She felt a wave of mild dizziness and nausea as she realized that she was standing in Moody's blood. There was blood on her shoes. An Auror's blood on her shoes. It required everything within her not to sway with dizziness.  
  
"Go, laddie," said Alastor in a weak voice.  
  
"I'll take you all directly to the hospital wing," said Knowles impatiently.  
  
Martin nodded and released his uncle's hand before climbing to his feet. Sophia and Olivia were quick to take his arms and pull him away with them.   
  
He blinked away the tears, knowing they were right. He couldn't do anything for his uncle. He was only in the way and slowing them down. He looked at Alastor one last time before walking willingly away with Sophia and Olivia, who were being trailed by a very contrite Corinna.  
  
Martin wasn't the only one with tears in his eyes. Sophia and Olivia were tearful as well. Mister Moody had been very nice to them, and they both admired him after their own fashion. Corinna was shivering, but there were no tears in her eyes, only blankness and emptiness. She had known that this might happen, though she had thought that Moody would get the better of the vampire. She had hoped that he would.  
  
But Sissy tried to keep up a stony facade as she approached Professor Knowles and carefully took his arm. She was also making every attempt not to tremble, but she had never seen anything so gruesome as Moody's injury. Nothing in any of her experiences matched that.  
  
"Miss Howard," acknowledged Knowles, putting his hand on top of hers, "come with me. We should all make good time to the hospital wing."  
  
"Yes, professor," she said.  
  
Knowles knew by her voice that she was afraid. He imagined that everyone who heard her speak could tell. He could not fault her for that. To be so young and witness something so horrible...  
  
"Come," he said to them, starting down the corridor.  
  
Behind them Sissy could hear Dumbledore and Flitwick preparing to move Moody. Professor Dumbledore was conjuring a stretcher, which would be a less traumatic method of transport than a Mobilicorpus spell would have been.  
  
"He will be all right. Moody is very strong," said Knowles in an even voice.  
  
"He's just lost a leg, sir," said Sissy quietly, glancing at Martin who seemed to be going into some sort of shock. He was fortunate to have Sophia and Olivia at his side, preventing him from stumbling and guiding him on his way.  
  
"But he will survive," said Knowles forcefully.  
  
"Yes," said Sissy very softly in agreement, "I suppose he will." She did not want to disagree with him.  
  
Professor Knowles squeezed her hand. He was aware that they were moving more quickly that the other four students, who were several paces behind, and decided to take advantage of that.  
  
"Are the others ... upset as well?" he questioned.  
  
"I'm not upset," she defended with a slight sniff that could not be stifled.  
  
"Are they then?"  
  
"Yes ... Martin thinks of Mister Moody as part of his family ... as his uncle," she replied, glancing back at them and slowing her steps accordingly.  
  
Knowles took the hint and slowed as well. "I am sorry. I never wanted anything like this to happen to Moody. He was a dedicated Auror, one of the best in the field. His career is almost certainly over now," said Knowles in a very low voice.  
  
Sissy realized for the first time that Knowles was troubled too. Whatever competitive feeling he may have harbored toward Alastor Moody, his feelings were not ones of hatred. In fact, Sissy believed, especially now, that he grudgingly respected the other wizard as an Auror.  
  
"Over?" she repeated questioningly.  
  
"Few wizards could overcome such a disability as the loss of a limb," he stated.  
  
"You could ..." Sissy told him.  
  
Knowles gave her a wry look and said, "I gave up that job with a far less horrible and debilitating injury."  
  
Sissy glanced at him uncomfortably, but said nothing further on the matter. She didn't want to know about the injury Knowles had received during the war. It was a very personal topic that he had only mentioned once.  
  
They all continued in silence, walking, almost trudging, to the hospital wing. Nothing could be said that would make any of them, Martin least of all, feel any better. The situation was too terrible for that.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the irregular updates. I'm being kept too busy with school things.  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HMT: I'm glad you could relate. Thanks for the review!  
  



	44. The fate of an Auror

Chapter Forty-four  
  
The fate of an Auror  
  
Madam Pomfrey was more than a little surprised when the doors of her hospital wing opened to reveal Professor Knowles and five troublesome young Ravenclaws, three of whom appeared to be crying and one of whom looked more than a little ill. She hurried toward the group with an anxious expression.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked.  
  
"Poppy, it isn't any of us, but Alastor Moody will be brought through those doors in a few moments, minus one of his legs," said Knowles in a very brusque tone.  
  
The mediwitch inhaled sharply, but quickly recovered her composure. "What about them?" she asked, meaning the students.  
  
"Present at the incident. It was decided that they should be brought here," said the defense professor shortly.  
  
"Oh, dear," she whispered, looking at the five students in a new light. "Let me get them Calming Draughts..." said Poppy.  
  
"There isn't time," said Knowles bluntly. "Moody is on his way up as we speak, and he has lost a great deal of blood," he added with a look of mild distaste.  
  
"Professor, not in..." said Pomfrey in a warning tone.  
  
"I don't care if this is your hospital wing," snapped Knowles.  
  
"Then keep this lot out of my way," she said in a crisp voice. "You are in charge of them, professor," she added to make herself perfectly clear.  
  
The expression of distaste transformed into one of annoyance and disgust. "Oh, very well, _madam_," he answered her.  
  
Knowles allowed Sissy to lead him to an out of the way corner of the wing that was not so far from the door as to cause any of them concern. He leaned against a hospital bed, favored Sissy with a polite smile, and removed her hand from his arm. She murmured an equally polite thank-you and went to join her friends who had chosen to stand a bit farther away.  
  
Sophia and Olivia were still trying to comfort Martin, though his tears had mostly dried during their walk. He still seemed pale, and his eyes were empty and clouded, gazing only toward the open doors. Corinna was standing against the nearest wall with her head bowed. Her face was mostly concealed by her messy hair, but Sissy believed that she continued to look sick and just as pallid as Martin.  
  
"Corinna, did you know that _this_ was going to happen?" asked Sissy in a quiet voice.  
  
The other girl raised her head just slightly and said, "I ... I thought that ... maybe it wouldn't ... since Martin's uncle wasn't in his rooms. I thought Professor Dumbledore or someone else would get there first."  
  
"Immaterial," said Sissy. "Did you _know_ that Moody might get hurt like that?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered.  
  
"Then you should have told him, or at least told all of us," said Sissy.  
  
Corinna looked up at her with a bleak expression and said, "I thought I had more time. I didn't want to do anything to make it worse for him."  
  
"Stop badgering her," said Olivia hotly. "You told her not ... not to shift the responsibility, remember?"  
  
Martin stirred, and they all fell silent. Sissy held back whatever answer she was going to make to Olivia and eyed him coolly. Corinna seemed to be bracing for an impact. But the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor and arguing voices stopped him from speaking, which was probably for the better.  
  
Their heads all turned immediately toward the entrance of the hospital wing. Professors Dumbledore, Flitwick, and Krohn rushed into the wing, still arguing among themselves over something, whether it was concerning the injured Auror or the vampire, the young Ravenclaws could not say. The potions' master was carrying Moody in his arms, perhaps demonstrating the value of brawn over brains when it came to moving an injured man up and down several, if not half a dozen, staircases, which were being especially troublesome that evening. Krohn looked utterly wretched; Moody appeared to be unconscious.  
  
"Poppy!" bellowed Krohn at the top of his lungs, forgetting the argument.  
  
Dumbledore and Flitwick echoed the call, but the mediwitch was not far away. She had merely gone to collect some much needed medical supplies and potions from her office.  
  
"Put him there," she ordered as she appeared with her arms full of vials and jars. She gestured as best as she could manage to a bed she had prepared at the back of the ward behind a screen.  
  
The screen moved aside for Dumbledore, who helped Krohn to deposit his burden on the bed, but then it snapped back into place behind Poppy, leaving the students and Knowles without a view of what was happening.  
  
Martin took a step toward the rear of the hospital wing, but Sissy grabbed him by the shoulder.  
  
"Stay put, all of you," said Professor Knowles quickly, either hearing Martin's footsteps on the floor or else having very good instincts.  
  
"But ..." Martin began to protest.  
  
"You want Moody to be all right, don't you?" asked Knowles.  
  
"Yes, of course ..."  
  
"Then stay put and stay quiet. You don't want to distract Madam Pomfrey," he said in a very even tone.  
  
Sissy glimpsed a disapproving look flit across Sophia's face and knew that she thought the professor's words were too harsh. But Sissy agreed with him. Martin couldn't help matters by barging into the screened off area where Moody was being treated. He could only wait. That was all any of them could do.  
  
"Yes, sir," whispered Martin, taking a seat on the nearest hospital bed.  
  
"He'll be all right. Moody is very tough," said Knowles as a matter-of-fact. He had said much the same earlier. "You will see," he added confidently. Knowles was not attempting to comfort the students. He was merely giving them his assessment of the situation.  
  
"Thank you, professor," said Martin.  
  
"Not at all," he replied, settling back into a comfortable position again and tapping his cane lightly against his palm. He detested waiting, and though Knowles was loath to admit it, he was quite anxious to know how his former rival had fared.  
  
Professor Krohn and Professor Flitwick were the first to emerge from the screened off area sometime later. Martin held his breath and looked at them hopefully, but they did not acknowledge the students nor their colleague, who was beginning to drowse. Krohn's black robes were soaked darker with blood, and his hands were stained as well. Flitwick was dabbing at his face with a handkerchief. Both professors seemed grim.  
  
Martin waited until they had nearly reached the door to the hospital wing before springing from the hospital bed and rushing to speak with his head of house.  
  
"Professor Flitwick, how ... how is he?" questioned Martin desperately.  
  
Flitwick paused, but the other professor continued walking without a sideways glance. He could only stare blankly at the carmine stains on his otherwise pale hands as he walked.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore, please, keep your voice down," he said in a quiet voice.  
  
"Professor?" he asked in a much lower tone.  
  
"You know that he lost a limb ..."  
  
"Yes, I know that, sir," said Martin, chewing his lower lip and desperately trying not to cry in front of his head of house.  
  
"And a lot of blood," said Flitwick, looking back toward the enclosed portion of the ward. Martin looked at him with mixed expectation and dread. "Madam Pomfrey says that he will recover ... with much rest, potions, of course, and care," he said, patting Martin on the arm.  
  
Martin felt a wave of relief wash over him, but despite that, there was still a feeling of lingering sadness and guilt that was like an iron fist clutching at his stomach. That feeling, he was certain, would never go away.  
  
"Do you think I could see him?" Martin asked hesitantly.  
  
"I don't believe Madam Pomfrey has quite finished. You had better wait," advised Flitwick sympathetically.  
  
"Alastor wants to see him," called the headmaster from the other side of the wing.  
  
Martin turned and saw his father standing at the open end of the screen. Dumbledore motioned for him to come.  
  
His heart pounded as he started across the ward at a jog. He wasn't even aware that the girls had left their alcove to watch him nor that Knowles was not bothering to restrain them, hoping that the quartet would show a bit of common sense.  
  
"Thank you," said Martin breathlessly as his father stepped aside to let him in to see Alastor.  
  
Madam Pomfrey was setting a small cup aside and smoothing the linens drawn up to Moody's chin when Martin entered. He waited, although not very patiently, until the mediwitch had moved aside to approach the bed.  
  
"Uncle?" he asked in an uncertain voice, looking down at the gravely injured Auror, whose eyes were closed.  
  
"I'm here, but Poppy's given me a Sleeping Potion. I imagine it will kick in anytime now," he said in a quiet, hoarse voice. Moody stirred restlessly beneath the covers.  
  
"Does it ... does it hurt?" stammered Martin, noting how pale Alastor seemed.  
  
"Not so much now," he replied.  
  
"Good," said Martin with a slight nod. "I'm sorry ..."  
  
"Oh, Martin, you've done nothing to be sorry about. You and those girls did exactly the right thing. You're safe, and that's what matters most to me," he said, opening his eyes and looking at the young wizard at his side.  
  
"But ..." Martin said.  
  
The back of his throat was beginning to prickle, but he didn't want to cry in front of Alastor nor in front of his father, whom he knew to be standing just behind him.  
  
"I'll be all right. You'll see," said Alastor very reassuringly. "Then I really will get that vampire," he added with a grim smile.  
  
Martin sniffed and said, "All right."  
  
He could tell by the way the linens lay just where Alastor's mangled leg ended. He didn't think everything, or even anything, would ever be 'all right' again. But he didn't want to disagree with Alastor. He wanted to be strong and brave for once in his life. And he was failing miserably. A tear splashed down his cheek.  
  
"There now, laddie, don't you be crying," Moody told him in a soft, warning tone.  
  
"I can't help it," said Martin with a barely suppressed sob.  
  
"Come here then," said Alastor, struggling with the covers a bit before managing to hold out his arms to Martin.  
  
Martin's reaction was instantaneous. He threw his arms around Alastor, extracting a soft sound from the Auror. Tears leaked from the corners of Martin's eyes as he squeezed them shut.  
  
"Alastor needs his rest," Professor Dumbledore said to his son.  
  
"I'm all right, Albus," said Moody. "You can let him stay..." he added as Martin clung to him more tightly. He simply didn't have the strength to squeeze back, though he wanted to.  
  
"Please," asked Martin in a small voice.  
  
"Just until Alastor falls asleep," Dumbledore relented.  
  
He knew that his son had been through a difficult experience. Seeing what had happened to his uncle after facing the vampire ... that would be with the young wizard for a very long time. He could well understand Martin's state of mind as he held on so tightly to Alastor. Martin had nearly lost him.  
  
And Dumbledore was also aware of just how close the vampire had come to claiming his son. He had been worried about Martin's safety for much of the term, but he had believed everything to be under control. But all that it had required for the fiend to come so close to harming his son was one dark and snowy afternoon when neither curfews nor warded dormitories could protect him. The professor was at a loss as to what to do about all of that, but his musings on the matter would have to wait for a bit longer.  
  
Through the shock and horror of what had been done to his wife's closest friend, Dumbledore was angry too and it was his intention to stop the vampire from entering the castle or harming anyone else again, no matter what the cost. If someone who had seen him on that night so many years ago when Albus Dumbledore went off to fight Grindelwald, they would have recognized the similarity of the expression currently in his eyes to the one his eyes had held then. There was an almost fiery, fierce light of determination in them.  
  
He looked at his son and Alastor for a moment longer and then turned to go. He was going to call a staff meeting to deal with the aftermath of the invasion and devise a plan to prevent another.  
  
For the first time since the crisis had become his to deal with, the headmaster was considering temporarily closing the school.  
  
The girls watched Professor Dumbledore walk out of the hospital wing. Olivia glanced toward Knowles, who had been forgotten in the excitement, and wondered if he would notice if they went to have a quick peek at Martin and his uncle. Just to make sure that everything was all right, of course.  
  
Olivia looked at her friends and nodded toward the screen. Sophia bit her lower lip and nodded in agreement as did Corinna and Sissy.  
  
"Stop right there," said Knowles after they had taken three or four steps additional toward the other end of the ward.  
  
"But, professor ..." began Olivia.  
  
"I'm sure your friend would appreciate a bit of privacy. Hmm?" he said, tilting his head to one side.  
  
Olivia found the vaguely superior look on his face quite irritating. What did he know about Martin anyway? She was just about to say so when Sissy chose to speak.  
  
"Are you certain we would be intruding?" Sissy questioned with a cool expression. "Martin is our friend after all ..." she began to argue.  
  
"I know something of these matters," said Knowles shortly. "He is best left alone with his ... uncle for the moment," he said with a disdainful look that he did not trouble to mask.  
  
Sissy glanced across the hospital wing in time to see Poppy Pomfrey pull the screen closed. Like the rest of the group, Sissy wanted very much to know that Moody was all right and to comfort young Martin, but as always, Knowles' words carried great weight with her. She hesitated.  
  
"Professor Knowles, what are these students still doing here? I thought they would have been ordered out by now," said Pomfrey in a strained and vexed voice. She thought that their head of house would have resolved the matter. It had obviously slipped the poor wizard's mind in the confusion.  
  
"They are waiting for their friend," he said placidly, but his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.  
  
"He's staying ... probably until curfew," she said with a parsimonious look.  
  
No one had consulted her about this, though truthfully she wouldn't have had the heart to toss Martin Dumbledore out either. She also suspected that having him there was good for her patient as well. But still, it would have been nice if someone had asked permission.  
  
"Can we stay too?" asked Olivia quickly.  
  
"No, that's simply out of the question," said the mediwitch.  
  
"She's right, I suppose. You should all go back to your dormitory or to supper or something," said Knowles, taking up his cane and gesturing toward the door. "Mister Dumbledore will be along soon enough," he added as Olivia made a sound of disappointment.  
  
Sissy knew that it was a hopeless cause and gave Olivia a stern look to prevent her from arguing the point. Returning to the Aerie was probably in their best interests, and Sissy knew that she wouldn't be able to eat any supper. She was too unsettled by the events of the afternoon. The other girls looked very much the same: ill at ease, pale, and unhappy. Certainly not in any mood for a meal.  
  
"Let's go then," said Sissy.  
  
"You're taking his side?" asked Olivia in a low and hurt tone that she did not mean for the professor to hear.  
  
"There is no 'side' to take, Miss Scarrow. Madam Pomfrey and I are instructing you to leave the hospital wing at this time. That is the end of the matter," said Knowles.  
  
"Indeed it is," agreed Pomfrey. It was probably the first time she had agreed with Cyrus Knowles about anything.  
  
Corinna sighed softly, which was the first sign of life she had shown in a while, and said, "Let's just go, all right?"  
  
Olivia looked at her slumped shoulders and downcast expression and shrugged.  
  
"Sure, fine, of course," she said, starting for the door.  
  
The rest of the girls followed, but Sissy, a few steps behind glanced back to see Knowles leaving the spot he had claimed for himself.  
  
"May I visit Mister Moody before I go as well, Poppy?" he asked the school's mediwitch quietly.  
  
Sissy imagined that this was the reason he was so keen on seeing them off; he wanted to check on Alastor himself. She shook her head and followed Sophia out the door as Pomfrey gave her answer.  
  
"Not just yet. Take your own advice, would you, professor?"  
  
Martin was dimly aware of the conversations going on in the main portion of the wing. He dried his eyes as he watched Alastor falling asleep. The potion was taking effect and sending him to sleep, although Alastor seemed to be fighting it. Truthfully, the Auror wanted to stay with Martin until the young wizard got a hold of himself, but he simply didn't have the energy or the will for it. Martin managed a tremulous smile just as he closed his eyes, and Alastor, despite the pain and lingering shock, felt a bit better for that.  
  
"Good-night, lad," he mumbled before nodding off.  
  
Martin nodded mutely and pulled the linens up to his uncle's chin again. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robes and tried very hard not to let any more tears trickle stupidly down his cheeks. Then he remembered the blood in the corridor, the cries of pain, the words of the vampire, and the tears came anew whether he wanted them to or not.  
  
"I should have made Corinna tell me," he thought miserably, sitting down on the cold floor by the hospital bed. "She would have ... if I had only asked." He drew his knees up and fought back a wave of fury. "But she shouldn't have kept what she knew to herself. People have gifts like hers for a _reason_," Martin told himself, feeling his cheeks turn warm. "She was being selfish and stupid not telling me so I could have warned him ... selfish and stupid," he thought angrily.  
  
And he very much wanted to tell Corinna that to her face, but he could tell that the hospital wing outside was empty. The talking voices had ceased. They had all left, which was probably for the best.  
  
He rested his chin on his knees and glanced up at Alastor, wondering suddenly what would become of him. He thought about the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's Hospital. Would he be taken there? Martin, having visited his Uncle Merrick there as a small boy, hated the idea of anyone, much less Alastor, being sent there, even just for a short stay. The hospital had given him the creeps.  
  
"Maybe he can stay here..." he thought.  
  
Martin dozed off after a while, forgetting that he was only permitted to stay until Alastor was asleep. Of course, no one had come to order him off either as most of the staff were in a meeting and Madam Pomfrey was in her office, consulting with a colleague from another institution who often handled cases from Hogwarts that required more complex remedies that the school mediwitch could provide. This left the hospital wing empty and quiet save for the two wizards in the rear portion of the ward. The events of the afternoon and evening had exhausted the younger of those wizards both physically and emotionally. He was soon sound asleep on the floor beside Alastor's bed, curled up on his side.  
  
This explained why he didn't hear the quiet and hurried footfalls that echoed through the hospital wing some time later.  
  
Minerva McGonagall steeled herself as she slid the screen aside, not knowing exactly what to expect. She had just come from the staff meeting her husband had convened. The news had been unpleasant and shocking. She was glad that her son and his friends had not been harmed, but that did not blunt the horror she felt as Albus had disclosed the extent of the injuries that Moody had gained in the line of duty.  
  
The professor glanced down at where her son lay sprawled on the floor. He was all right. Then her attention turned toward the man who was lying sound asleep in the hospital bed. She walked around to the far side of the bed and looked down at him.  
  
"Alastor?" she whispered.  
  
He was so pale ... She had never seen him looking so pale before, not even in the field where they had witnessed some terrible things together. Minerva sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, not daring to let her eyes drift toward his legs.  
  
Alastor had been her mentor when she first entered the Auror training program. Their personalities had clashed a bit at first. Maybe they still did, but she had grown to respect him and enjoy his company. She had come to consider him a friend. Then she had been assigned as his partner, which had surprised her at the time, given her youth and inexperience. He had, as she later found out, requested her because he saw potential in the somber, stubborn, albeit largely rule-abiding, young woman, who had married a man thought to be one of the best wizards of their age.  
  
Their history aside, Alastor Moody was a brilliant Auror, one of the best in the Ministry. He was not even fifty years old and already becoming something of a legend in magical law enforcement. So how had this happened? How had Chrisoph Somerville got the better of him?  
  
She smiled wryly. No, this wasn't just Somerville anymore; it was a vampire ... who had once been a very promising young professor of Occlumency and Legilimency, led astray by the promises of Grindelwald. She had never known him, but Albus had spoken of him during the war. Her husband had called him a strange young man, but one with great potential, if only someone had given him the proper guidance. Her husband had tried and, by his own admission, failed. Then Somerville had disappeared, only to return as a henchman to Grindelwald.  
  
Perhaps the lives Grindelwald had ruined through corruption and deception had been among the Dark Wizard's greatest crimes. Albus had said so during the early years of the war, long before Somerville, then an unknown Dark Wizard to her, had invaded their home. And Minerva had agreed with her husband, though perhaps she felt less sympathy than he did toward those who had been duped or led astray by Grindelwald, especially after that night when she had seen his lieutenant for herself. But whatever her feelings, nearly eleven years later one of those ruined lives was still haunting her husband, and their family.  
  
Returning her attention to more immediate matters, McGonagall knew that no mere Dark Wizard, vampire or not, could have evaded, not to mention grievously injured, Alastor Moody like this. Somerville, who had eluded Aurors for years after the fall of his master, was a force to be reckoned with. She admitted that for the first time as she sat staring down at her colleague where he lay sleeping.  
  
"Two fully trained Aurors in this castle, and still it can't be caught," she murmured to herself. She felt a stab of guilt, not for the first time, that she had not been more actively assisting Alastor, in spite of her other obligations and the fact that she was officially on sabbatical.  
  
Looking over the side of the bed to where Martin remained fast asleep, Minerva shook her head. "And he shouldn't be sleeping on the cold floor."  
  
She looked down at Alastor again and squeezed his shoulder. He stirred slightly, but did not awaken. With that, Professor McGonagall left the bed and went awaken her son. It was nearly curfew, and she wanted him to be somewhere safe before darkness shrouded the castle completely.

* * *

A/N: This one was a bit slow, but the pace will pick up again eventually.  
  
HMT: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: I'm glad you liked the suspense. Thanks for the review!  
  
RavenSapphire: I'm pleased that the story has kept you entertained. So Minerva was a surprise? I have to admit that it's a relief to hear that. Sometimes I thought I was giving too much away about her. I'll also admit to be a big shipper of Albus/Minerva. Olivia and Sophia aren't quite as developed as the others, but they'll gain some depth before the end. Thank you for reviewing!  
  



	45. Recrimination

Chapter Forty-five  
  
Recrimination  
  
The common room was very crowded when Martin walked in. He noticed a few students, some from his own year, regarding him curiously. He imagined that what had happened was not a secret. Moody had been transported through the main corridors of the school, after all. Anyone could have seen him, and Martin's relationship with the Auror was certainly no secret either. Everyone was probably putting together the pieces rather rapidly.  
  
He scoured the room for several minutes before finding the girls. They were huddled together in a corner far from the area of the room they normally occupied. They had been sitting there ever since their return to the Aerie.  
  
Sophia was sitting on the window seat with a throw that looked an awfully lot like Sissy's around her shoulders against the chill as she looked out across the grounds, which were barely visible through the snow in the failing light. Only vague shadows and shapes could be seen. She looked pensive and more than a bit tired.  
  
But Sissy, curled up in an old armchair, was uncharacteristically fidgeting. She seemed more than a little uneasy and anxious. Waiting for Martin to return was taking a more obvious toll on her than on some of the others. She was very interested in knowing how his uncle was doing, among other things, and had only thoughts about those matters to occupy her mind. Her patience was beginning to wear thin.  
  
Olivia was sitting on the floor with her chin resting on her knees. Martin was surprised to see that she had taken her dark hair down, letting it spill over her shoulders. He had only seen Olivia with her hair down once. She still looked very odd like that. Her eyes seemed a bit red and puffy too, as though she had been crying sometime earlier.  
  
In the corner Corinna was sitting slumped on a footstool with her arms around her knees. She was replaying what she had known and what had happened over and over in her mind, wondering if she could have changed anything. She had rebuffed all attempts at a conversation made by the other girls. Her messy hair obscured her eyes and much of her blank expression.  
  
Martin felt a renewed flash of anger as he looked at Corinna just sitting there as though nothing terrible had happened, but he tried to shake off the anger as he approached the group.  
  
"Martin!" exclaimed Olivia as she noticed him.  
  
She scrambled to her feet as Sophia made room for him on the window seat. His eyes remained on Corinna, who had yet to look at him, but he accepted the seat with Sophia and a reassuring punch to the shoulder from Olivia.  
  
"How's your uncle?" questioned Sissy, noticing his eyes on Corinna. She imagined, from the look on his face, that he was angry with her. On some level, she knew that he had a right to be.  
  
"He's sleeping at the moment, but he ... he says he'll be all right," Martin informed them in a slightly clipped and restrained tone. "Mum thinks so too..." he added quietly.  
  
"We're sorry about what happened," said Sophia.  
  
"I know," he said, wrenching his eyes from Corinna. "I wish that..." he started to say, but he just shook his head when the words would not come. They all knew what he meant. He wished that he had been able to stop the vampire from hurting Alastor.  
  
"Me too," said Corinna very quietly.  
  
"You could have fooled me," he said in a bitter and accusing tone.  
  
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" she said defensively. "If I had said something or done something ... what if I had made it worse? What if he had _died_ instead?" She was almost pleading with Martin to understand.  
  
"Well, we'll never know, now will we?" said Martin. "Because you never gave us the opportunity to decide the better course of action. You just closed your eyes and ... and let it happen ... instead of doing something, anything to stop it! You could have told me at any time. I could have made the decision, and, by Merlin, I would have warned Alastor so that ... that he could have stood a better chance fighting that thing!" Martin exploded at her.  
  
Tears trickled from Corinna's eyes as she cowered away from him, unable to reply to the charges he made against her.  
  
"Martin, don't be childish," said Sissy.  
  
He rounded on her immediately, and said, "And, you ... you supported her decision not to say anything! To keep this to herself. And look what happened because of that!" There were angry tears in his eyes as he made the accusation.  
  
Sissy stiffened and replied, "I did what I thought was right, neither more nor less than that." There was doubt in her eyes, though no one would have recognized such a thing in the eyes of Sissy Howard.  
  
"I never closed my eyes," said Corinna through her tears, taking his attention from Sissy. "I never did! When I knew what was going to happen, when I _saw_ it, Martin, I was always looking for a way to help him. For anything that might help. I just couldn't find anything!"  
  
Martin looked at her hard and scowled through his tears. "You should have tried harder!"  
  
"I did the best that I could, Martin! I like your uncle. I like you. I would never want to see either of you get hurt. Never, Martin!" she told him as tears streamed down her cheeks.  
  
Those words seemed to calm Martin down for a moment. He gave a jerking nod and looked away. His throat prickled again as Sophia put her arm around his shoulder. Everyone was suddenly silent. No one noticed that half the common room was watching the argument.  
  
"Sorry," muttered Martin stiffly. Something, perhaps the desperate sincerity of her words, seemed to bring him back, make him remember that she was his friend, that she never meant for any of this to happen, that it wasn't her fault.  
  
"Got it all out?" asked Sissy with a wry look.  
  
"For now," he nodded as Sophia rubbed his back. A few stray tears splashed out of his eyes and down his face. He brushed them away. The anger was seeping away, and he felt just a bit better for it, though a lingering hollowness remained in its wake.  
  
"I suppose I deserved it ..." said Corinna after a pause.  
  
"I don't know about that," said Martin more than a bit apologetically.  
  
Olivia pinched him affectionately and said, "We don't blame you, do we? I mean, it must be hard ... what happened to your uncle."  
  
"No, we don't blame you, Martin," echoed Corinna, wiping her eyes and knowing that he hadn't meant what he had said. She had only known him half a year, but she was certain of that.  
  
"Thanks," he said.  
  
"That's what friends are for," said Sophia with a gentle smile.  
  
Sissy glanced over her shoulder where several students were still staring at them and sneered. "I think we've put on enough of a spectacle for one evening," she told the others.  
  
As Martin walked up the stairs to his dormitory, he couldn't help but notice that all the boys in his year from Woodward to Prentice to Middleton left their seats and followed him. To be perfectly honest, it still made him a little nervous despite the mostly amicable relationship he had developed with his year mates. He rubbed his face with his hands as he walked into the dormitory, preparing himself for a barrage of questions that was sure to come.  
  
"I might as well take this lying down," thought Martin dourly, plopping down on his bed and stretching out comfortably. The soft mattress felt very good after having a nap on the floor earlier.  
  
He turned his head and watched the other boys enter the room. Middleton, the unofficial leader of their year, was first through the door. He looked mildly surprised to see Martin lying in bed. Woodward, who had come out his shell in recent weeks, was following close behind with Halliday. Prentice and Wainwright brought up the rear with the former looking especially hesitant.  
  
"Out with it, Martin," said Leslie Middleton, who hated his own first name so much that no one was allowed to use it on pain of a bloody nose or worse. His tone was very brusque.  
  
Martin took his wand from his pocket and placed it on the nightstand. This garnered him a few raised eyebrows.  
  
"I'd rather not, if it's all the same. You can try to get it out of me the old fashioned way. I'm too ... too something to care," said Martin. The word he was looking for might have been 'exhausted' or 'drained' or even 'burned out'.  
  
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Martin! We aren't going to beat it out of you!" exclaimed Middleton, blushing furiously as he had nearly tried to do that very thing earlier in the term.  
  
"He's just being dramatic," said Julian Woodward irritably. "Didn't you hear him downstairs?"  
  
"I'll have you know that my uncle just lost his leg," said Martin hotly, propping up on one elbow to scowl at the other boy properly. He stopped immediately as the scowling only made his eyes prickle again. And he certainly didn't want to cry in front of his mates.  
  
Halliday inhaled sharply and Prentice let out a soft squeak of horror, but Julian just looked slightly abashed.  
  
"I'm sorry. Rotten luck," said Middleton.  
  
"It wasn't luck," shrugged Martin, lying down again. "It was the vampire."  
  
"The vampire? What? In the castle?" asked Wainwright, scratching his head uncomfortably.  
  
"Again?" asked Halliday.  
  
"That's right," said Martin with a hollow laugh.  
  
He wanted to tell them that it was after him, and him alone, but thought better of it at the moment, not knowing how the boys would react.  
  
"Did it ... get anyone?" asked Prentice timidly, looking very pale behind his freckles.  
  
"Change them into a vampire? No, not this time," replied Martin.  
  
"Good," said Middleton with a nod. "Er, you don't want to tell us about it by any chance, do you?" he asked.  
  
"I didn't exactly see it happen," Martin told him.  
  
Middleton's shoulders slumped a little. He was obviously disappointed. The first year student had been very curious about the incident as his step-brother had seen Flitwick, Dumbledore, and Krohn transporting the Auror through the halls.  
  
"Oh, I see," he said quietly.  
  
Martin took a deep breath and decided that there was no harm in answering the questions that they were asking. In their place he could imagine himself doing the same thing now.  
  
"I heard it," Martin amended, "through the door. It was awful."  
  
"Yeah ..." agreed Halliday with wide eyes. "I can only imagine."  
  
Martin just managed to crack a smile. Imagination was something that none of them were short on.  
  
"What'd it do exactly to ... to your uncle?" asked Julian in a clipped tone.   
  
If he was as unnerved as the other boys, he wasn't showing it as he leaned against on of the bed posts and looked at Martin with a calmly curious expression that betrayed nothing. Sometimes Martin envied Woodward.  
  
"A Reductor Curse..." said Martin with an uncomfortable grimace.  
  
For most of the young wizards, that spell was well above their skill level, but Middleton, having Slytherin relations and, again, a lot of imagination, recognized both the spell and its intended use and winced accordingly.  
  
"That creature's got to be stopped," said Middleton, shaking his head at the horror of it all. He recognized that the curse had probably blown the other wizard's leg apart, splattering whatever was left of it all over the corridor where it had happened.  
  
The other boys nodded in agreement, but none of the young Ravenclaws offered a plan of action. Given time, they certainly could have devised a plan, but these young men weren't heroes. They weren't even scholars yet. They were just eleven- and twelve-year-old boys with better than average minds and a love of learning.  
  
"It won't stop until it gets what it wants," said Martin as a matter of fact. Then he experienced a sinking feeling of dread as he realized that he was a danger to those around him, to his house mates, his year mates, and his friends.  
  
"Blood," said Halliday with a slight shiver.  
  
"Me," Martin corrected.  
  
"What do you mean _you_?" asked Julian slowly.  
  
Martin sat up and sighed. It was best that they knew, he decided. Knowing that he was what the vampire was after would help them understand and choose their own courses of action. Knowing was always better.  
  
"The vampire was one of Grindelwald's followers," said Martin, extracting gasps from his roommates, except Julian, who was above such things, "and it's after me ... probably because it wants revenge for my father defeating its master."  
  
The expression on Middleton's face was very uncomfortable as he asked, "So it really won't be giving up then, will it?"  
  
"No," said Martin, "not unless someone finds a way to kill it."  
  
"But ... but if it only wants you, why was Zabini attacked?" asked Prentice hesitantly.  
  
"It had to feed now, didn't it?" said Middleton with a vaguely contemptuous look that was directed at the smaller and more easily bullied student.  
  
"But your father's a great wizard. If it is after you, then why on earth hasn't he taken care of it already?" asked Wainwright with an uncomprehending look.  
  
"Vampires are supposed to be very wily and cunning. Haven't you read that before, Nathan?" asked Woodward.  
  
"And he can change into a bat," Martin added, mostly in defense of his father and his abilities as a wizard.  
  
Of course, the boys had all seen this for themselves. Martin merely wanted to remind them. He considered adding that it was also an accomplished Legilimencer, but figured they wouldn't know what that meant.  
  
Wainwright took both their points and nodded slowly.  
  
"Well, you're in trouble and no mistake there," said Middleton with a heavy sigh.  
  
"Tell me about it," said Martin with a wry look. "I just wish so many other people weren't involved," he added, looking at the five young wizards gathered around his bed and thinking and the girls in their dormitory and unfortunate Alastor in the hospital wing, all because of him.  
  
"Don't be such a martyr, Martin!" objected Woodward. "No one's _involved_ as you so nicely put it because of _you_. It's because of that thing, because of the vampire. If you ask me, Hogwarts was due for a catastrophe. It's been nearly fifteen years since anything really dangerous happen here. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later," he said with an exasperated expression.  
  
"I'm not a martyr," Martin defended quietly, although he grudgingly admitted to himself that what Julian said made sense ... in an odd sort of way.  
  
"Then don't act like one," he retorted with a slight sneer that made him seem much older than his meager twelve years.  
  
"Well, what do you think I should do then?" Martin asked. It was a question he had not put to the girls. At least he hadn't asked them that question yet.  
  
Julian looked at the other first years and said, "Tell us the whole story. We may not be vampire hunters or Aurors, but we've got some good heads in this room. I bet we could think of something by putting them together."  
  
The other first years all nodded, although Prentice looked very nervous about the prospect of more talk about the vampire. Martin looked at all of them carefully, weighing Woodward's suggestion in his mind as he did so. They weren't going to laugh or taunt him. They were afraid, but not unwilling to, in some sense, face their fear. And Woodward was right: they were all rather intelligent and resourceful. Maybe some of them were less mature -- this was how Martin explained both Middleton's tendency to bully and Prentice's constant cowering -- than he was, but they had not learned the hard lessons he had during that winter and autumn. They were all Ravenclaws, and, apparently, they were all his friends too.  
  
"All right," Martin agreed somberly, "if that's what everyone wants."  
  
"You know, he was a lot less upset than I expected," commented Sissy as the girls prepared for bed in their dormitory. "Someday, he might even be as even tempered as you are, Sophia," she added with a slight smile, watching the other girl take down her braids.  
  
"I would never've ..."  
  
"Blown up like that? Maybe not," Sissy interrupted, making Sophia frown just slightly. "But he is a year younger than you. Last year, in his circumstances, you might very well have," she said.  
  
"Cripes, I'd love to see that. Sophia ... blow up at someone," laughed Olivia half-nervously.  
  
Sophia looked at them coolly and knew that they were trying to make light of everything that had happened, and not just between all of them and Martin. They were trying not to think about Mister Moody or about the vampire or about how much danger they were all in or what might happen next time.  
  
"Very funny, I'm sure," said Sophia.  
  
"Do you think he's really all right about everything now?" asked Corinna, who had already climbed into bed and was tickling Oscar, her kitten, underneath the chin. The kitten was growing up rather fast. He purred contentedly and watched his owner through half-lidded eyes.  
  
"Lest we forget, Martin is a boy, and boys are relatively simplistic. I would say that, yes, he is, for the most part, though I should think none of this will be easy for him to forget," answered Sissy. Their simplicity was what made many of the boys in their year nasty brutes, in her opinion, but it could also be a positive aspect to their personalities, under the right circumstances, of course.  
  
She imagined that while Martin was unlikely to vent his anger at any of them again, he was going to haunted by the experience they shared for some time to come.  
  
"Well, that's nice!" objected Olivia. "I though we had decided early on that he wasn't like the rest of them."  
  
"Did we really? I suppose he's not, but he isn't that difficult to figure out. For one thing, I would be willing to wager that he's not especially angry with Corinna anymore," said Sissy impassively.  
  
"I hope not. I never meant for it to turn out this way," muttered Corinna, holding her head in her hands. All evening she had been thinking about how every time she had a decision to make, she invariably made the wrong one.  
  
"I think we've talked about this enough tonight..." said Sophia carefully. "Maybe it would be better for all of us to wait until tomorrow," she added.  
  
"Of course," agreed Sissy with a sneer, trying to prove that the topic did not disturb her.  
  
But on some level it did, even after she Scourgified her boots to get the blood off and tried not think about what Corinna had known and kept to herself since presumably before the holidays.  
  
"Unsettling," she thought to herself as she climbed into bed, "and who knows what else Corinna might know."  
  
She glanced at Corinna, who was placing her kitten on the floor for the night as Oscar usually slept beneath her bed or with the other cats, and hoped that the young Seer in their midst had learned something profitable from the experience they had all shared that day.  
  
"If not, then I highly suspect it was for naught."  
  
Meanwhile in a comfortable, fire-lit room near the headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall were having a late night cup of chocolate together at a table by the window. Minerva looked decidedly pensive and sad while her husband merely appeared to be deep in contemplation as he watched the marshmallows bobbing in his cup. They had been sitting there since Minerva had returned from escorting Martin to Ravenclaw Tower, and she was loath to leave, though her place was in her rooms in the other dormitory tower with the students entrusted to her.  
  
"I have a favor to ask of you, my dear," said Dumbledore.  
  
"I'm sorry, Albus? What was it you were asking me?" she questioned, having been lost in her own thoughts for sometime.  
  
"A favor ..." he said with a soft smile. His bright blue eyes twinkled behind his spectacles.  
  
"Of course," she nodded.  
  
"I have not selected a deputy as of yet..." he began.  
  
"Oh, Albus, no, surely not me!" she objected strenuously, placing her cup on the table with a muted thump.  
  
"I need someone strong, Minerva. You must recognize that fact at least," he said, growing more somber and serious.  
  
"I do, but wouldn't Professor Flitwick do..." Minerva began to suggest.  
  
"He refuses, matters of conscience and so forth," he interjected a bit enigmatically.  
  
"Then Krohn ... Kettleburn ... Vector ..."  
  
"I said that I need someone strong. You know what Reynard is like: untempered steel. He's not half as capable as he seems, and I think you know that quite well, Minerva. Patrick, on the other hand, simply isn't up to the task. He doesn't have a head for this sort of thing. In normal circumstances Beatrice Vector would be an admirable choice, but these aren't anything like normal circumstances. An Auror, whether she is on leave or no, would be most handy to have by my side ... as always," he explained, reaching across the little table between them and grasping her hand.  
  
Minerva pursed her lips and said, "Flattery will get you no where."  
  
"What about logic and reason?"  
  
"I can't be the only one in the castle up to the task, Albus. That simply isn't rational," she said.  
  
"But you are the right one for the job," he countered.  
  
"What will people say?" she asked.  
  
"To whom do you refer?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Everyone who knows we're married," she replied.  
  
"I see ..." said Dumbledore slowly. "They might think I unfairly chose you over more senior ..."  
  
"And permanent ..."  
  
"Professors," he finished, nodding.  
  
"Precisely, Albus."  
  
"That is utter rubbish and you know it. No one who _knows_ us would think that," he objected. "And why would you care what strangers think?"  
  
"That isn't the point I was trying to make," she said.  
  
"So do you accept or not? If your answer is 'no', then I must reevaluate my position on Kettleburn..."  
  
Minerva took a deep breath and said, "It will only be until you've found a new instructor for Transfigurations."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"I accept, but you had better start grooming Beatrice Vector for the position," she said with an unpleasant, but meaningful expression on her face.  
  
"Of course, whatever you say, my dear."

* * *

A/N: The argument scene was really difficult to write. I'm sure it turned out like I wanted. Sigh.  
  
HMT: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
RavenSapphire: Sophia and Olivia will have a larger part later in the story. Thanks for the review!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Sharap'n Princess: I never made the connection between Sissy's father's name and the PM of Australia. Thank you for pointing that out!  
  



	46. The morning after

Chapter Forty-six  
  
The morning after  
  
"You didn't sleep," Sissy accused Corinna the next morning as they all prepared to face the day.  
  
"I slept a bit..." said Corinna with a sluggish shrug.  
  
She was blinking owlishly at the mirror as she tried to do something with her messy hair. As always, there was nothing for it. She yawned quietly and refused to give in to the futility.  
  
Sissy, quite to the contrary, looked well rested and more than a little prim as she combed her long hair and watched Olivia assisting Sophia with her braids.  
  
"You could forego that for a day," she hinted to them both.  
  
Olivia had yet to put her hair and glared over her shoulder at Sissy.  
  
"We have potions today!" said Olivia very forcefully. "Do you know how dangerous it is to have long hair in Krohn's classroom?"  
  
Sophia gave her an odd look. Olivia rarely advocated caution, or even a reasonable facsimile of it.  
  
Sissy blinked placidly and said, "I've never encountered any problems."  
  
"Corinna, please tell me that her hair is going to catch on fire in class someday," said Olivia.  
  
Corinna furrowed her brow and asked, "Do you really think I can predict something like that?"  
  
"Maybe," said Olivia.  
  
"I haven't seen it. I don't know it," she answered.  
  
Sissy gave Olivia a vaguely superior look to which the other girl responded by sticking out her tongue.  
  
"Oh, do behave," said Sophia with a quiet sigh.  
  
They had all finished their morning rituals, except Corinna, who would be going to Quidditch practice instead of breakfast on a normal morning. Practice had been canceled ... not for the first time ... the previous afternoon, leaving her free to take her time and to have a morning meal with her friends instead of rushed one with her teammates, all of whom continued to grouse about the schedule, much to Ambrose's displeasure.  
  
"We can't put this off any longer. We must see Martin," said Sissy as the other girls eyed the dormitory door anxiously.  
  
"I bet he won't be waiting for us. He's probably gone to see his uncle," said Olivia rather half-heartedly.  
  
"No, he's waiting," said Corinna.  
  
"Then that's that," said Sissy, gathering up her school things.  
  
The girls couldn't say exactly why they didn't want to face Martin that morning, only that they were reluctant to do so after the devastation that he had experienced. They had all shared the danger of the vampire's attack, but only Martin, through the injury of his uncle, had been scathed by it in any tangible way. In many ways the other attacks had bound them all together; this one, they felt, had somehow separated them.  
  
But Martin was indeed waiting for them in the common room and pacing as he did so. He was anxious to see his uncle, and the girls were keeping him from that task. He didn't feel right about leaving without a word to them when he knew they were expecting him to be there, waiting as always, but he did wish quite fervently that they would stop dawdling.  
  
The previous night, explaining everything to his year mates, had been very cathartic for him, although in the light of morning as the guilt, sadness, and sickening dread began to fade, Martin wondered if he had been right to tell them such things. They had been almost desperate to hear, especially Woodward and Middleton, but did that make it right? He was almost certain that his parents would rather the other first years not know such things, like the vampire's real name or his penchant for Legilimency. But Martin, through Corinna, knew the danger of withholding information.  
  
"Maybe it will help them somehow ..." Martin mused to himself as he watched the girls slowly descend the stairs from their dormitory.  
  
"Good morning," said Sissy curtly.  
  
"Er ... morning," he said. "I'm going to see Alastor before having breakfast, so I suppose I won't see any of you until later," he informed them.  
  
"Can we come along?" asked Sophia, hoping that it wasn't Martin's intention to skip breakfast entirely. She was certain he had not eaten the evening before and missing another meal would be unhealthy.  
  
Olivia looked at her a bit oddly, but said, "Could we? I mean, we want to know how he's doing and all."  
  
A grateful smile spread across Martin's face. "Of course. I'm sure he would be pleased to see all of you as well, if Madam Pomfrey will allow him so many visitors at once."  
  
Corinna, who had been thinking longingly of a nice breakfast with her friends, just sighed to herself as they followed Martin through the portrait hole. She wasn't particularly keen on seeing what had been done to Moody again, in part at least, because she still felt somewhat responsible.  
  
The hospital wing was quiet and still dimly lit as it was rather early, despite the girls' earlier procrastination. Madam Pomfrey was just beginning to light the lamps and uncover the windows when the five students stepped into the wing. She was a very early riser, especially when she had patients to attend.  
  
"And just what do you think you're doing here?" she asked them with pursed lips and a very stern expression.  
  
"I thought I could visit..." Martin began to explain.  
  
"And them?"  
  
"The same," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Sissy, whom he could tell didn't like being referred to in the third person.  
  
For an instant Martin thought Madam Pomfrey was going to refuse and shoo all of them away, but then she gave a thoroughly beleaguered and aggravated sigh and said, "I don't suppose it would do any good to turn you away. You would all be back at the end of classes today, wouldn't you? My hospital wing hasn't seen this sort of disruption and irregularity since ... since I was a student and helped Madam Plummer. For Merlin's sake! What she would think of all this! Oh, very well, Mister Dumbledore, you may visit him very briefly."  
  
"And the girls?" he questioned.  
  
"So long as they don't bother him," she said.  
  
Martin counted this as a great success.  
  
"Thank you," he told the mediwitch.  
  
"Get on with you, or you'll all be late for breakfast, or worse yet, for your classes."  
  
Alastor Moody had been fading in and out since around sunrise that morning. Not that it made any difference. The hospital wing was quiet; unconsciousness was quiet. The hospital wing was a bit chilly; the state of near insensibility in which he resided was as well. The hospital wing was very shadowy; much the same with where ever he drifted off to. Due to the potions he had been given, including the sleeping draught and whatever Poppy had given him for the blood loss the previous evening and for the pain around midnight, it had ceased making very much difference to him quite some time ago. The only thing Alastor wanted was to lie there, peaceful and still, in whatever state of consciousness he happened to be in at the moment.  
  
And Alastor did just that for what seemed like a very long time.  
  
Then he heard something odd that pierced the quiet. It was a soft squeak that reminded him of something. Of course, he wasn't in any condition to examine the sound very closely. Then he heard a few other sounds that were even softer. Gentle thudding noises without rhythm or pattern. This made him quite curious, although he felt sleepy too and would not have minded at all if the noise simply went away. But when the sounds did cease, Alastor found himself oddly troubled.  
  
But the shadowy quiet swelled around him again, pulling the worried thoughts from his mind before those thoughts composed themselves into anything of less fragile substance.  
  
Then Alastor believed he was dreaming, though the darkness remained unchanged. Something touched his shoulder. This something he recognized as a pair of hands, although they seemed oddly small to him. Then there were other hands, phantom appendages that seemed to come from nowhere. A pair pulled the linens up neatly to his chin and smoothed them. Another set fluffed the pillow beneath his head with the assistance of those that had so lightly touched his shoulder. Still others could be felt spreading an extra blanket over him that had not been there before. Cautious, but tender fingers brushed his tangled and messy hair from his brow.  
  
A feeling of comfort settled over him as he heard hushed feminine whispers all around him, and in his mind's eye he could see robed figures around his bed. Nine of them he thought there were, and the same fair maids who had borne King Arthur to Avalon. He thought they smiled at him as he opened his eyes to look at them in wonder.  
  
"Am I dead then?" he asked himself, staring at the bleary shapes that loomed around his bed.  
  
It was then that he realized that there were only five people standing around him and that one was a boy ... who bore an uncanny resemblance to young Martin Dumbledore. He blinked a few times and realized that he had been dreaming, in a manner of speaking, that the boy was indeed Martin, and that he was still lying in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. And that he couldn't quite feel his right leg.  
  
"What happened?" he mumbled as Martin gently brushed back his dark hair again. The others, whom Moody recognized as Martin's friends, edged away from the bed.  
  
Alastor tried to move his leg, but the strange sensation that was produced, which included a sharp pain in the vicinity of his knee, told him that it was unwise to attempt that again.  
  
"I'm injured," he thought dully.  
  
"It's all right. We didn't mean to wake you," said Martin very quietly. There were tears in his eyes as he tried to smile. "Sophia thought you looked cold ... and uncomfortable, so we got you a blanket," he added.  
  
"Thanks," murmured Alastor.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Martin asked hesitantly.  
  
"My leg hurts a bit," he mumbled quietly.  
  
Alastor watched as Martin's eyes drifted toward the end of the bed, but could not follow the young wizard's troubled and uneasy gaze. He didn't have the energy to turn his head again. His strength had been sapped, although he was unsure what had caused it. His first guess was potions and the like. But Alastor felt a sense of dread and anxiety that he could not readily explain as he watched Martin blink back a few tears.  
  
"Would you like one of us to get Madam Pomfrey?" asked the girl with braided hair. Alastor required a moment to remember that her name was Sophia.  
  
"No need, no need," he murmured.  
  
"Er ... can we do _anything_?" asked Martin uncertainly.  
  
Alastor smiled, shifted slightly in bed, and was rewarded with another sharp pain from his leg that made him shudder from the sheer magnitude of it. He couldn't figure out what had happened to him. He had broken his leg before, that same one in fact, and had hobbled about on it for the better part of a day during the Grindelwald conflict. His leg didn't _feel_ broken. From the knee down he couldn't feel very much of anything. He felt he should know why this was the case, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was a slight, inexplicable prickle from time to time that was almost like an itch. Other than that, his leg just felt numb.  
  
"Can you tell me what's the matter with my leg?" Alastor asked.  
  
Martin paled noticeably and stammered something unintelligible that sounded vaguely like, "Which one do you mean?"  
  
One of the girls gasped out loud only to receive an elbow from one of her companions.  
  
"The right..." said Moody.  
  
Martin swallowed with some difficulty as his mouth went dry. He could not understand how Alastor didn't know that his leg was missing. Didn't he remember what had happened the evening before?  
  
"Alastor ... you've lost ... your leg. It isn't there anymore," he said.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye Martin could see Sophia slowly edging toward the opening in the screen. He was grateful for that. More than grateful. He knew she was going to fetch the mediwitch.  
  
Alastor managed to crane his neck enough to get a good look at his legs, or rather his left leg and the stump of what had once been his right. His heart pounded in his ears as everything began rushing back to him. Finding the vampire in the corridor outside his chambers ... exchanges hexes and curses with the creature ... dodging a Reductor Curse that had been aimed at his midsection ... blinding, mind-numbing pain that ended in darkness ... Martin shouting for him ... Dumbledore cauterizing the wound ... Martin gripping his hand ... more darkness.  
  
"Mister Moody, are you ... quite all right?" asked Miss Howard.  
  
Despite the circumstances, he had no difficulty remembering her name, but he found himself almost wanting to call her John, whom he could well imagine asking the same question, but with less hesitance.  
  
"I just need a moment," he replied, taking a deep breath.  
  
Martin reached down and placed a hand on his shoulder before repeating Alastor's own words back to him.  
  
"It's going to be all right."  
  
Neither of them had noticed precisely when Sophia slipped out, but it was at this time that she returned with Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"I thought I explicitly stated that Mister Moody was not to be bothered," said Pomfrey in a very displeased voice as she made her way to the Auror's bedside. She had a small cup of something green and bubbly in her hands. "Drink this," she told him, deftly slipped an arm behind Moody to prop him up.  
  
"What it is?" he asked.  
  
"A Calming Draught," she said shortly, not bothering to explain that it was a strong one.  
  
He consented to drink it, but pulled a face as she took the cup away. The potion was truly horrible stuff.  
  
"Everyone, out," Poppy commanded.  
  
"But ..." objected both Alastor and Martin.  
  
"None of that. These children need breakfast. You need your rest, Mister Moody," she told him very sternly.  
  
The girls, especially Sophia, did not protest at all as they were shooed from Alastor's portion of the wing.  
  
"That was awful," said Corinna quietly as they made their way toward the doors.  
  
"Yes," Sophia agreed.  
  
Martin said nothing, but trudged along with them as they started toward the Great Hall. He didn't feel very much like eating anymore.  
  
The five students were nearly at their destination when they heard someone behind them call out to Martin. And they knew that voice and that it meant trouble as it belonged to Astrophel Black, who was accompanied, as ever, by his friends Flint and Bulstrode. Sissy immediately, albeit surreptitiously, palmed her wand, preparing herself for another fight.  
  
"Whoever said that all good things come in threes never met this lot," she muttered in a just barely audible voice.  
  
Olivia and Sophia were nervously moving their hands toward their pockets. Only Corinna and Martin did not at least begin to go for their wands. And Martin was seriously considering it as he turned to watch the approaching Slytherins.  
  
Black had recovered from his quality time spent with Mister Pringle, looking none the worse for it, save perhaps for a colder, harder look in his eyes. In the long term the affair had not helped his disposition at all.  
  
"Dumbledore, I heard that Auror you hang about with got into a little accident yesterday. Got one of his legs blown off, did he?" asked Black in a cheerful tone meant to goad Martin into rash action.  
  
The Ravenclaw just looked at him with a blank, disbelieving expression. Black wasn't really having a go at an Auror injured in the line of duty, was he? That was low, even for a someone like him.  
  
"What?" stammered Martin.  
  
"Oh, yeah, we heard about the whole thing," boasted Black with a sneer. His cohorts chuckled and looked a little smug.  
  
"Did you now?" asked Sissy dangerously.  
  
"I heard he screamed just like a little girl," said Flint, inclining his chin and almost daring Sissy to do something.  
  
"You know, I heard he begged the vampire for mercy," said Black rather conversationally.  
  
Bulstrode laughed a bit stupidly, but said nothing.  
  
Martin opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The words simply wouldn't come. His companions, however, were not likewise inhibited.  
  
"Then you both heard wrong. I'd get that checked," said Olivia, clenching her teeth and pointing her wand at Black. It was the first time in her life she had truly wanted to engage in a wizard's duel. Such things were better left to Sissy. But that morning, she wanted to hex Black until he was nothing more than a damp patch on the floor.  
  
Black had his wand drawn in a second and glared at Olivia, obviously not knowing that she was mortally inept in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He really only had Sissy to judge by, which was a tremendous advantage to the five Ravenclaws.  
  
Flint and Bulstrode went for their wands in a clumsy fashion, but the same could be said for Martin and Corinna, the latter of whom desperately did not want to fight, despite the horribly unkind taunts from the Slytherins.  
  
"Five to three. Not bad odds," snarled Olivia.  
  
"You wouldn't dare," hissed Astrophel, looking at Sissy, who had shouldered her way to the front of the group.  
  
"The same goes for you, Black," she shot back instantly. "Apologize to Martin for impugning Mister Moody's honor, and we can all go our separate ways," said Sissy with some authority in her voice.  
  
Black's companions exchanged nervous glances, but still looked ready to support their leader.  
  
"Me? Apologize to that sniveling little brat? Not a chance!" said Black, raising his wand. Then the Slytherin third year faltered, and his face seemed to fall. Black lowered his arm slightly. "Merlin, why me?" he muttered darkly.  
  
And at that moment Sissy could hear hurried footsteps in the corridor behind them. She risked a quick look over her shoulder to see Professor Krohn striding toward them.  
  
"Why any of us?" she said in a low tone, knowing that Ravenclaw was going to lose points despite their defensive posture. Only Sophia seemed relieved by the arrival of a teacher.  
  
"Can't even wait until after breakfast," said Krohn, shaking his head at them. There was a vein in his forehead that almost seemed to throb. Corinna thought it was rather fascinating. "Wands away," he ordered with a sweeping gesture. To be fair, not even Astrophel Black would have attempted to continue the nearly violent disagreement with Krohn there.  
  
"We haven't done anything," said Black hastily.  
  
"Yet. You haven't done anything _yet_," he corrected, hesitating a look at Sophia. She still seemed to be alive and breathing. She also, judging by the wand she was tucking away, had learned nothing from previous experience. He favored her in particular with a very displeased look.  
  
"The Ravenclaws started it," Astrophel attempted.  
  
Krohn rubbed his forehead and took a deep, calming breath. Or at least the breath was meant to be calming. In actuality it only fanned the flames.  
  
"Twenty points for lying to a professor _from your own house_. Five points for fighting ... from everyone. You all had your wands drawn. I can only assume ..." said the professor.  
  
Olivia made a quiet, outraged sound that she was unable to suppress, but Krohn seemed to take no notice.  
  
"This is the most deucedly idiotic thing I have had to deal with in my almost precisely twenty years of teaching. Here I have eight students, none of whom appear to be mentally defective in any way," he said, unconsciously glancing at Bulstrode, "who simply don't understand that they CANNOT attack, waylay, or otherwise do harm to each other in the corridors before, after, or between classes. Five Ravenclaws, for the love of God! And three Slytherins who should know better. Hexes! Curses! Bloody noses! I shudder to think which it would have been this time." Krohn looked at Martin and Astrophel. "The war is over and this bloody nonsense must stop as well," he told them, breathing hard from the outburst, which seemed to be playing itself out.  
  
Martin looked at Krohn in confusion and cut his eyes at Astrophel. He thought he understood after a moment. Black's family must have supported Grindelwald. That explained why the older student hated him so much. Martin smiled slightly, feeling very much relieved by this knowledge. He had believed that it was only house rivalry, or worse, something about him specifically, like the way he looked or walked or something inane like that that had made Black hate him so much.  
  
"Wipe that smirk off your face, Dumbledore!" snapped Krohn. Martin did so immediately, watching Krohn as he surveyed the lot of them.  
  
"Sorry, professor," he said.  
  
"I can't think of a solution to this problem, but I believe it's for the best that you all accompany to the office of the headmaster," said Krohn. Turning his attention to Martin, he added, "For all the good it will do."  
  
Martin frowned at this remark, but said nothing as it knew no good would come of it. Sissy and Olivia both bristled at the implication that the headmaster would show favoritism, especially to a non-Gryffindor, even if the student in question was his only son. They simply didn't believe Professor Dumbledore was like that.  
  
"Black, Bulstrode, Flint, in front, if you please," said Krohn, gesturing down the corridor that would take them to the headmaster's office. He clearly wanted to keep an eye on his own students. "The rest of you, follow me, and no lagging behind," he ordered.  
  
Martin shrugged as Sissy and Olivia glared daggers at the professor's back. Sophia and Corinna simply appeared to be resigned to their fate.  
  
"This is categorically unfair," muttered Sissy in a low voice.  
  
"I know! Why does he always seem to be about when we have a run in with Black and those goons?" asked Olivia in an outraged hiss.  
  
"No talking either," said Krohn over his shoulder as they trudged behind him.  
  
When they reached the headmaster's office, or more accurately the gargoyle that stood before its entrance, Professor Krohn just stood there. His students turned and looked at him while the Ravenclaws shuffled their feet. Martin could not figure out what was going on for a moment, but then he realized that Krohn either did not know or could not remember the password. He considered withholding it, but Martin imagined that his father would be very disappointed in him for doing so.  
  
"_Sugar Quills_, sir," said Martin in a quiet voice.  
  
Krohn narrowed his heavy-lidded eyes at him and said, "Yes, of course." He was pretending that he had known it all along. He spoke the password, and the gargoyle moved aside for them. "Up," he ordered the trio of Slytherins.  
  
The Ravenclaws followed him dutifully into the office, having, of course, no other choice in the matter, although Olivia felt very much like running. She reminded herself over and over again that they hadn't done anything wrong.  
  
Martin was surprised, given the hour of the morning, to see his father seated at his desk. Breakfast was nearly over, he imagined, and they had all missed it, except for the Slytherins who had probably just come from the morning meal and were on their way to class.  
  
"Reynard, what can I do for you this morning?" asked Professor Dumbledore, glancing at the students who had accompanied his potions' master into the office.  
  
"I caught them all fighting ... again," said Krohn.  
  
"That isn't true, sir!" Olivia blurted out. She was unable to stop herself. She was still seething from the callous remarks that Black and Flint had made.  
  
"I managed to stop it before any spells were cast, but, clearly, they were about to begin hurling hexes at one another. Unhappily, three of my own students were also involved," Krohn told Dumbledore.  
  
"I see ..." said the headmaster. "But no incantations were spoken?"  
  
"None that I heard," replied Krohn.  
  
"Then they cannot be punished for using magic in the hallways," said Dumbledore.  
  
"No, of course not, but what about fighting, Albus?" asked Krohn as it dawned on him that Dumbledore did not seem ready to throw the proverbial book at any of the students. He had been right without meaning to be; Dumbledore was going to show favoritism! He could hardly believe it.  
  
"I don't see any evidence that they were fighting," said Dumbledore, peering at them carefully. "No one appears to be injured," he added.  
  
"I stopped them before it came to that," snapped Professor Krohn, trying to keep his temper.  
  
Sissy did not especially like where this was going. Dumbledore was apparently attempting to allow all of them, guilty and innocent, to walk away without being punished. She knew that she should feel grateful about that, but looking at the smug Slytherin students standing with Krohn, she just couldn't, not after the things they had said about Mister Moody.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, he was going to curse or hex us. I have no doubts about that," said Sissy coolly as she nodded toward Black. Olivia elbowed her to no effect.  
  
"That's right," said Sophia, choosing to help Sissy make things right. "Black had been taunting Martin about Mister Moody's injuries, and when he found Martin unwilling to fight with him, he tried harder to goad him. We pulled our wands when it became apparent that Black only wanted a fight and wouldn't stop until he had one. Professor Krohn arrived just before Black acted," she explained.  
  
"I was just minding my own business!" said Black unconvincingly as he scowled at Sissy and Sophia.  
  
"Yeah ... me too," Flint agreed, although he had not been accused.  
  
"Please..." said Dumbledore, holding up one hand to silence them before an argument broke out. His expression was very somber as he looked at his son, but Sissy thought she saw pride mixed with sadness in his eyes too. "Let us settle this matter rationally," he told them.  
  
"I have already deducted house points, but perhaps if they served some sort of detention," suggested Krohn.  
  
Sissy had the loathsome idea that the potion's instructor missed Mister Pringle and his methods, which was not necessarily the case.  
  
"The school is in a state of emergency, Reynard, and that makes it rather tricky to hold late afternoon and evening detentions, especially in light of the discussions that took place yesterday during the staff meeting," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. They were as close as they had ever been to closing the school.  
  
"Then they are to get away with this?" asked Krohn.  
  
"You have deducted house points," the headmaster reminded him.  
  
"Extra lessons then," suggested Krohn. Somehow he had managed to forget that this was not the same sort of punishment for Ravenclaws as it was for the other houses, including his own.  
  
Nevertheless Corinna and Martin winced visibly as did Flint and Bulstrode. Sophia, however, looked completely unfazed.  
  
Dumbledore weighed the suggestion for a moment and looked at Martin. His eyes twinkled ever-so-slightly. Maybe extra assignments from Reynard would keep them busy and out of trouble. He knew the other professor would be only too happy to give these assignments as Krohn seemed quite insistent that the students be punished for the near-incident in the corridor.  
  
"Very well, Reynard, you may give them additional potions' work for the next week," said Dumbledore.  
  
Martin wanted to protest, not only because he had not done anything to the three Slytherins, but because they had said such terrible things about Alastor. He felt at that moment that perhaps it would have been better if they had all hexed those cretins. He frowned and looked at the floor.  
  
Olivia elbowed him with less force than usual and gave him a sympathetic look. Martin looked up a bit and attempted to smile in return, but found that he couldn't manage it.  
  
"I will have something ready for them by the time I see them in class," said Krohn with an impassive look.  
  
"I believe it is nearly time for classes," said Dumbledore, rising from his desk. "All of you should be on your way," he said to the students, "except you, Mister Dumbledore. I want to have a few words with you."  
  
"And me, Albus?" asked Krohn.  
  
"You may go," said Dumbledore.  
  
Martin did not like being ask to wait by his father. It made him nervous, especially considering the fact that he had just be involved with a near-altercation with three older Slytherins and dragged along with his friends to his father's office by their head of house. None of these factors, he imagined, would make for a pleasant conversation, which ended all hope of grabbing a piece of toast for breakfast before dashing off to his classes. Not a wonderful way to start the day by any means.  
  
"Professor Krohn has some odd ideas, as I am sure you have noticed. He sees something relatively small, such as the conflict between you and your group of friends and young Mister Black and his friends, and finds himself willing to go to extraordinary lengths to stop it," said Professor Dumbledore, gesturing for Martin to have a seat.  
  
"But I suppose it's his job," ventured the young wizard, relaxing a bit as he sat down in one of the chairs that faced his father's desk.  
  
"Yes," the elder Dumbledore agreed with a slight nod, "but can you imagine Professor Kettleburn, for instance, bringing all of you up here without a single spell being cast by either parties?"  
  
"No," said Martin with a frown, though privately acknowledging that this was probably because Professor Kettleburn was very nice and usually pretended not to notice such things.  
  
"I imagine you will profit by the extra lessons. I was quite proficient in potions myself, you know," said Dumbledore before signaling for a house elf. One appeared with a soft popping sound.  
  
"Headmaster, you is wanting something?" it asked with a low bow.  
  
"Two breakfasts to be served here, please," said Dumbledore with a pleasant smile.  
  
The elf glanced at Martin, and he recognized her as Inky.  
  
"Yes, of course, headmaster, sir," said the house elf before vanishing.  
  
"I thought you could do with something, Martin," said his father, clearing off a bit of space on his desk.  
  
"Thanks," replied Martin.  
  
"Do you mind telling me what was said concerning Alastor?" questioned Dumbledore cautiously.  
  
Martin shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, "I would rather not. I mean, you can imagine, right?"  
  
"I suppose I could," said Dumbledore, watching Martin's face redden with anger.  
  
Just then their breakfast arrived, and the headmaster chose not to pursue the matter at the moment.  
  
"I visited Uncle Alastor this morning," said Martin.  
  
"How was he?" asked Dumbledore curiously. He had been otherwise occupied with school business and had not visited Moody since the previous evening.  
  
"I think he's been given a lot of potions," Martin hesitated, "but he seemed ... all right. Other than his leg, of course."  
  
"That is to be expected," Dumbledore told him in a grave tone.  
  
Martin just nodded and picked at his breakfast. He felt both hungry and ill at ease, which were only naturally a bad combination.  
  
"Your mother believes that you should stay out of class today," he stated conversationally. He did not need to say why. "I told her that it was your decision," Dumbledore added.  
  
"I'm going to be late for my first ..." he said with a frown.  
  
"I can give you a note," said Dumbledore with a dismissive gesture.  
  
"Then I suppose I had better go to class. Alastor wouldn't want me to skive off on his account," said Martin solemnly.  
  
The headmaster smiled at this and said, "Of course he wouldn't, but do finish your breakfast before you go. Madam Hooch will most certainly understand." At times like these Dumbledore knew that his son was every inch a Ravenclaw, and it made him quite proud.

* * *

A/N: Almost a single-character chapter, but for a good reason.  
  
RavenSapphire: Thank you for the review!  
  
HMT: Thanks for reviewing!  
  



	47. A lesson in potions

Chapter Forty-seven  
  
A lesson in potions  
  
Not even Sophia was looking forward to Potions when they walked into the dungeon classroom that afternoon. Although it might have been her imagination, Sophia rather fancied that Professor Krohn was still glowering from the incident that morning. Or maybe he had just begun glowering again upon their arrival, which made more sense to her once she considered it. Nevertheless, the potions' master seemed very displeased and that invariably spelled trouble for his students.  
  
The Ravenclaws, not to mention their Hufflepuff year mates, were very glad that it wasn't their day for double Potions. One hour was abysmal; two hours would be entirely unbearable given Krohn's current disposition.  
  
"Today ... we will be preparing relatively simple Curative Potions," he said very slowly. "For the most part, they have a tendency _not_ to explode, but all of you should exercise extreme caution with the _small_ amount of powdered dragon's claw as it can do nasty things in larger quantities," he warned them as he turned and began scribbling instructions on the board in his wide hand. "Can anyone tell me another ingredient of this potion?" he questioned as he wrote.  
  
Sophia put her hand up immediately as did her house mate Li Chang, who appeared to be a bit bored.  
  
"Chang," said Krohn without turning.  
  
"Daisy roots," he answered.  
  
"Prepared in what manner?"  
  
Sophia watched as Chang furrowed his brow in a flustered fashion. She knew the answer, but did he?  
  
"Chopped ..." said Chang uncertainly.  
  
"As I said, this potion usually does not explode. In your case, I dare say it might," said the professor harshly. "It is never enough to merely know the ingredients. One must also know how they are prepared and used. And for immediate future reference, they are to be crushed and blotted dry."  
  
Sophia was amazed that he did not take points from Ravenclaw as he finished writing out the very detailed instructions for the potion.  
  
"What color should this potion be when you're finished?" asked Krohn, looking around the classroom at the bright-eyed Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs with their heads down, trying to avoid even looking at him, least they should be called upon to answer.  
  
Sophia raised her hand again. She rather thought that Olivia would know this one too as she was usually aware of what a finished product should look like, even if getting it there was more than a bit of a problem, but none of her friends or fellow students attempted to answer their professor's question. At first she thought that Krohn was going to pretend that she didn't exist, but then he motioned for her to speak.  
  
"A translucent green, sir," Sophia answered.  
  
"Bubbles by any chance?" he asked.  
  
She gave him a quizzical look, but said, "I don't think so."  
  
"Very good. If there are bubbles, please, step away from your cauldron and inform me immediately as it is a prelude to a nasty aromatic reaction caused by an overabundance of daisy roots and not _enough_ of the dragon's claw and porcupine quills," said Krohn in a very exacting tone.  
  
Sophia felt her stomach flip-flop as she watched Olivia pass Sissy a small bit of parchment under the table. There would be hell to pay if Krohn caught them. She watched Sissy smirk as she read it and hastily scribbled something back to Olivia. Corinna was unwisely looking at them both with great interest, although she almost certainly couldn't read the note. Sophia began to sweat as a wide grin spread across Olivia's face. On some level she was thankful that there was no more room upon which to write on the parchment. If only Olivia had had the good sense to tuck it away....  
  
"What have we here?" asked Professor Krohn, looming over the table that the four Ravenclaws shared.  
  
Sophia started, having failed to noticed his approach. To the professor's credit, he could move rather quickly and quietly for a man of his size. In fact, it could be rather eerie at times.  
  
"Nothing, professor," stammered Olivia, balling the note up in her hands as quickly as she could.  
  
He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand to her. He wanted the piece of parchment, and there was no way that Olivia could refuse to give it to him. Sophia realized that Olivia had turned pale instead of the expected scarlet. Whatever was in that note was certainly not just idle chit-chat about class. That would not have been sufficient to frighten Olivia, not by a long-shot. Sophia risked a glance at Sissy to find her lips pressed into a thin, anxious line.  
  
Professor Krohn took his time uncrumpling the note, making Olivia squirm. Sophia found herself fighting the urge to do the same.  
  
"Let me see ... Should I read it to the class or not?" he asked.  
  
The Hufflepuffs looked at him dully, a few of them even shook their heads, not wanting to see their classmates embarrassed like that. Their male Ravenclaw year mates were obviously very concerned about the loss points, but curious too. Chang looked a bit expectant, having already decided that Krohn would read the note without any encouragement from his students. He was correct in his assumption.  
  
"I believe I should read it," said the professor, looking at Sissy and Olivia, the chief culprits in the matter. He cleared his throat and began, "_Another easy potion for Sophia. She'll definitely show us up again._" He faltered slightly as he read it and glanced at the student in question before turning the note over. "_But the old bear will never let her know that. He never does ..._" Krohn finished, or perhaps he merely chose to stop there, realizing that he had only succeeded in embarrassing relatively unoffending Miss Colville by reading the note. For the moment he didn't even seem to take offense at being referred to as 'the old bear'.  
  
Sophia, on the other hand, had turned crimson and was staring down at her desk. She bit her lip as her eyes began to sting. She_ knew_ how her friends felt about Professor Krohn, not to mention her steady defense of him, but she couldn't imagine why they would be writing notes about _her_ like that. It was very cruel. She never tried to show them up. She was just good at potions, like Sissy was at defense, Olivia at Charms, and Corinna at Transfigurations. She never boasted about it, and she always tried to help them improve their marks whenever she could.  
  
"Well, that was ... educational," said Professor Krohn as he looked down at Sophia. The hard expression had left his face. He tucked the note into a pocket and walked back to the front of the classroom. "Please gather your ingredients and begin. Time is a bit short," he said to the class, acting as though nothing had happened.  
  
Sophia and Corinna worked together in silence on their potion, but it was obvious that Sophia remained bothered and upset by the contents of the note. She had difficulty concentrating on her work, but managed to brew the draught correctly, although its color was slightly cloudier than it should have been. Nevertheless, Professor Krohn filled a vial of it and labeled the potion as 'acceptable'.  
  
Sophia was glad of that considering how many of the ingredients Corinna had added. She was too inattentive, too much of a day-dreamer to be very good at potions, but Sophia never faulted her for it, attributing those characteristics to her gift. Odd little drawbacks, Sophia had thought, but now, the afternoon following the attack on Alastor Moody that Corinna had foreseen, she felt more sympathetic for the plight of her friend.  
  
"I bet Sissy and Olivia will turn on her too eventually. Just as soon as she gets top marks in Divinations," thought Sophia a bit sourly.  
  
Even so, she did realize that she was being a bit unfair and should not unjustly accuse the two of them without hearing them out first. This she planned to do after class was over.  
  
The potions' master felt a certain satisfaction when he instructed the four young witches to remain after class that afternoon while everyone else rushed out to enjoy another snowy day out of doors or perhaps to adjourn to the library or their common room. He rather enjoyed the fact that he was going to see to their punishment himself for the unfortunate incident in the corridors that morning. They would not get out of it so easily this time.  
  
"I have the first of your additional work for you," said Krohn with a slightly smirking expression.  
  
He had four rolled up parchments on the corner of his desk that contained information on the aforementioned assignments, which had been carefully thought out. Each parchment had the name of one of the girls on it. Krohn knew something of their skills, their strengths and weaknesses, and their interests from having them in class for the better part of two years. Each of the tasks would be quite excruciating in its own particular way.  
  
But after the earlier situation concerning the note, the professor felt badly about causing Miss Colville any more grief, despite the fact that she had seemed just as involved as the others in the near altercation with his students. He imagined that she was only following the lead of Scarrow and Howard. And just look where it had got her.  
  
He visibly grimaced as he thought about the rather unkind note. Miss Colville was intelligent, but that went without saying; she was a Ravenclaw. But she was not a show off by his estimation of such things. She was merely a good student where potions were concerned whereas the others were oftentimes less than adequate.  
  
Krohn looked at her carefully as he gave her the assignment he had devised. He did not lavish praise on any student, deserving or no. The words for things of that nature did not come easily to him, and surely recklessly encouraging a student would only lead to complacency and arrogance.  
  
He frowned. "No, not in her case. Miss Colville would never let anything go to her head," he thought to himself.  
  
"Please, stay for a moment," Krohn told her. "I think I should clarify something about your task as it is more complex than that of your classmates," he added in an impassive tone.  
  
He hoped that it grated, but truthfully, the girls all had other things on their minds, except for Sophia, who was paying attention and felt oddly grateful for what she perceived as an attempt at making her feel better.  
  
"Give that back, would you?" he asked, reaching out his hand for the parchment.  
  
Sophia did as he requested, but asked, "Is it really more complex than their assignments?"  
  
"Only a bit," he said, opening the parchment and picking up a quill. He scratched out a few lines, which Sophia could not read, and made a few notes. "You really are a very good student. If none of your professors tell you that, you really should speak with your head of house or ... or something. I really can't imagine that Professor Knowles or the new instructor in Transfigurations are overlooking your potential ..." he rambled as he scribbled, not looking up at her as he felt a bit foolish.  
  
"No, sir, I ... that is, I'm not very good at either of those subjects ... but I do well enough, I suppose, and all of my professors, even Professor Knowles, are ... quite nice," she stammered, blushing furiously at his compliments.  
  
"Just me then, is it?" he asked with a sneering smile, looking up from the parchment.  
  
He had made an attempt at giving her a less tedious and horrible task than cataloguing the types of worms used in potions. Krohn had changed it to flowers. It was the best that he could think of at the moment, though he thought it a bit silly. True to what he had said, it was, however, a bit more complicated.  
  
"I would never presume ..." Sophia began.  
  
"Rubbish. I know what students think of me. _Old bear_? That is perhaps a bit unflattering. Or it would have been if ..." he said as his lips twitched slightly. For a moment it looked as though a genuine smile might come to his face, but instead he looked away and frowned, suddenly somber.  
  
"If, sir?"  
  
"If a bear had not been my father's Animagus form," he finished. "The old bastard could do nearly anything. I must confess, at times I hated him for it..." Krohn said softly.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Sophia quietly, not knowing what to make of his admission.  
  
"Don't be. It isn't your place," he said with a wave of his hand. "Not that I am attempting to keep you in it. Your ... friends, now they could certainly do with someone to keep them in theirs," he said with disgruntled look as he masterfully changed the subject.  
  
"It's usually me. I try ..."  
  
"Do you really?" he asked, suddenly looking very interested. "I would imagine that to be rather burdensome."  
  
"It isn't," she shrugged, "and someone has to look out for them."  
  
"They should be more appreciative," he commented.  
  
Sophia considered that for a moment, and Krohn, observing her thoughtful silence, wondered if he had perhaps upset her.  
  
"For the most part ... they are in their own ways. They take me quite seriously, you know, though I wish they would listen a bit more when I advise them ... to be more cautious and things like that. Maybe I'm not forceful enough, but I don't like arguments," she said calmly. "Things usually work out well enough in the end without bothering with raised voices and strong words. Most of the time they aren't necessary," Sophia added.  
  
Krohn wanted to ask her many things concerning caution and recent events, but he did not know if he would like the answers he received.  
  
"Wise words," he said, not untruthfully, "especially for one of your years."  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling slightly.  
  
Reynard reached into his pocket and removed the wrinkled note. He looked at it and sighed inwardly.  
  
"Would you like to have it?" he asked her.  
  
Sophia chewed her lower lip anxiously and said, "I suppose I would, though I feel childish."  
  
"Don't. In your place I would not give up the chance to see their words for myself," said Krohn, giving the scrap of parchment to her.  
  
She looked at the last words of the note for herself, the ones he had not read to the class.  
  
"_But she still respects him just the same. Poor Sophia_."  
  
Only Sissy's fine and graceful hand could fit so much onto such a little note. Sophia smiled just a bit at the message contained therein. Not half so jealous as it first seemed without that addendum.  
  
"Funny that so poor a wizard should command the respect of a witch with such great potential," said Krohn with an ironic smile and a small, ever-so-slightly deferential nod.  
  
Sophia blushed and countered, "You aren't a poor wizard, sir. You're a brilliant potions' master. Just last term I heard Professor Dumbledore compliment your skill. Everyone knows you're one of the best brewers of complex draughts in all of England."  
  
"To be a good wizard or witch, it requires more than one area of expertise. From what I know of your marks, you are already well on your way to besting me in Charms, Transfigurations, and ... independent study."  
  
"Independent study?" she asked quizzically.  
  
"Your adventures with your friends," he said with a smirk.  
  
"Very amusing, I'm sure, professor," she said in a tone that let him know that it was anything but.  
  
"Misadventures then," he said, growing markedly more somber.  
  
Sophia sensed a lecture coming and fidgeted slightly.  
  
"No, I won't say anything, Miss Colville. If what happened to Mister Moody did not teach you this lesson, the nothing I can say will matter one whit," he said, shaking his head.  
  
"About the danger we're in? I don't think I needed a lesson about that. None of us went looking for the vampire yesterday. It came for Martin," she replied.  
  
"You knew that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. He found the idea of Miss Colville knowing about sinister Professor Somerville very disconcerting and displeasing, no matter how little she might know.  
  
"Yes, and we couldn't let it just take him, could we?" she asked.  
  
He shook his head and said, "I suppose not, but you should exercise caution nonetheless."  
  
"We did what we could, given the nature of the situation," she said quietly, but firmly, unwilling to give any quarter.  
  
Krohn studied her for a moment and nodded somberly.  
  
"Not exactly my finest hour either," he said, taking the leather tie from his hair and letting it fall forward to shroud his face somewhat. "I have no cause to fault your conduct nor that of your friends in that matter," Krohn sighed bitterly.  
  
"Seeing what that creature did to Martin's uncle gave me a bit of a turn too," Sophia confessed.  
  
"But _you_ kept the contents of your stomach where they belonged," he pointed out with a grimace.  
  
"Barely," she replied with a similar expression. She wasn't certain how she had accomplished it. Perhaps it was because so much had been going on at the time. Perhaps because she had already been so thoroughly terrified.  
  
"Horrible, wasn't it?" he asked, ducking his head and thereby fully obscuring his face from her view. "I know I've never seen anything that quite compares," said Krohn softly.  
  
He shuddered. It had been many years since he had been forced to contend with such horror, much to the same result. Krohn had not been ill when he had first learned that his siblings had been killed during the war, but when certain trophies had been gifted to him by Grindelwald, their former master, that had been his reaction. Likewise when Myrtle Meeks' body was found in the girls' lavatory. Hardly a proud history, but it was his, such that it was. What had been done to Moody haunted him too, despite his general and understandable dislike for the man.  
  
Sophia stepped to the other side of his desk and cautiously touched his shoulder. She thought he smiled faintly at this, but could not be certain. She couldn't quite put into to words the emotion that she felt, which was not precisely sympathy nor commiseration, though it contained elements of both, but rather an unexpected feeling of what Sophia could only define as something of a likeness of mind. But despite that, she could not think of anything to say to the professor.  
  
"I don't know how long this cat and mouse with Somerville will go on, but if it continues much longer, I ... I may give notice. I'm no use when it comes to fighting -- don't contradict me -- and I haven't the stomach for this either. But I'd rather it not come as a shock to you," he said, placing one cold hand on top of hers.  
  
"Sometimes I think I would like to leave too ... if I could. Then I think of my studies and my friends and try harder not to give in to the fear," she told him.  
  
"And I think of going home again and realize that nothing remains there for me anymore," he said, recalling the year when Miss Meeks was killed by a nameless horror that turned out to be an Acromantula, if the word of Tom Riddle could be trusted. Krohn had never been entirely sure about that young man.  
  
The professor had wanted to leave then, but the war would permit no return home for him then. He had been trapped. Now, he had little home to which to return. The lands of his family had been seized and the small castle where he had grown up lay in ruins. He had no home other than Hogwarts. No where to which he could run when he wanted to do so. And even so, this situation still made him want to flee.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Sophia almost automatically.  
  
"Yes, aren't we all," he said.  
  
Krohn took her hand from his shoulder and brushed his hair from his face with his other hand. They had been talking, nearly as equals, for a very long time now. He did not think it wise to do so any longer. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say.  
  
"I have work to do, Miss Colville, as do you. Good afternoon," he said rather abruptly.  
  
Sophia was not surprised. She had been expecting it for sometime.  
  
"Yes, good afternoon, professor," she nodded before going on her way. She had much to think about, not the least of which was a note that she tucked into her pocket.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about long it's taking me to update.  
  
Joou Himeko Dah: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
HMT: The draft? That would suck. Thanks for the info and for reviewing!  
  
RavenSapphire: The conflict with Black is sort of necessary and will get more interesting (I hope) later. Thanks for the review!  
  



	48. Farewells

Chapter Forty-eight  
  
Farewells  
  
Olivia and Sissy were growing anxious when Sophia did not immediately catch up with them in the common room after Krohn had dismissed them. Corinna, who was also waiting, demonstrated no sign of such anxiety, knowing the Sophia had remained to have a long talk with their professor. The other two young witches imagined that she had gone to the library to sulk, but that did not seem very much like Sophia, despite her occasional, although increasingly infrequent, trips to the lake for some time to herself.  
  
"She has a right to be angry," said Corinna.  
  
"We didn't mean anything by it! We were just bored!" objected Olivia in a plaintive voice.  
  
"It still wasn't very nice," Corinna disagreed.  
  
"She'll get over it. I just wish he had read _all_ of my note. That might have smoothed things over a bit. Trust Krohn to be an absolute git," said Sissy, shifting in her seat with a sour look.  
  
"I would refrain from saying that in front of Sophia, no matter how true it might be. There's no good adding fuel to the fire," said Corinna.  
  
"What fire?" asked Sissy. "She's not got a temper to speak of."  
  
"You know what I mean. You two shouldn't make the situation any worse than it already is," Corinna told them.  
  
"She isn't angry with you," said Olivia.  
  
"I know," said Corinna with the barest hint of a smirk. Then she glanced toward the portrait hole and said, "She's coming now. I would be ready to apologize if I were you."  
  
True to form, Sophia stepped through the common room entrance only a moment later, looking somber and very thoughtful, but hardly angry. She had too much on her mind for that. She glanced at her friends and went to join them. Olivia quickly made room for her on the couch.  
  
"Er ... how's the assignment?" asked Olivia hesitantly.  
  
"I haven't looked at it yet," said Sophia. She felt a twinge of guilt as she had not given it a second thought since leaving the dungeons.  
  
"Ours are rotten," said Corinna. "I have to write out the procedures for three potions and then two feet of parchment on what's different about them. Olivia has to research the origin of some dreadful potion that burns people, and Sissy has to categorize healing and restorative potions from the fourteenth century," she added.  
  
"We didn't mean anything by that note," said Sissy as Sophia merely nodded mutely in response to Corinna's statement.  
  
Sophia was actually thinking about how awful those three assignments seemed, not to mention how tailor-made they were to each of her friends: Corinna's inability to pay attention to detail, Olivia's relatively weak stomach and lack of interest in potion-related minutiae, and Sissy's love of the Dark Arts. All of those things were exploited to make sure than none of them could enjoy their tasks.  
  
She carefully removed the parchment from one of her pockets and unrolled it.  
  
"Flowers?" she thought in confusion. Then she remembered that he had changed it.  
  
"So are you angry with us?" asked Olivia.  
  
Sophia looked up from the parchment and said, "No ... I'm more disappointed. I never realized that you felt so strongly about my marks in potions."  
  
"We don't," said Sissy.  
  
"Then why?" she asked with a puzzled frown.  
  
"Professor Krohn ..." Sissy told her. "You know how we feel about him. We know how you feel about him. We know how he feels about all of us."  
  
"That last part ... I don't think you do," said Sophia.  
  
"He's out to get us, and he only ignores you," said Olivia a bit sharply.  
  
"I just had a very nice conversation with him," said Sophia with a slight blush, "and he isn't that bad."  
  
Sissy looked at her with a steady gaze and said, "He just designed extra assignments for the express purpose of tormenting us."  
  
"It's supposed to be punishment," said Sophia, rolling up her parchment and trying to look indignant.  
  
Olivia snatched the parchment from her and unrolled it despite her protest. Looking at the assignment, Olivia laughed out loud.  
  
"You may as well read it," said Sissy curiously.  
  
"Is this strictly necessary?" asked Sophia, blushing to her ears.  
  
"If it was good enough for the professor..." said Sissy, referring to the note that he had read in class.  
  
Olivia cleared her throat and read, "_Please catalogue all known flowers used in part or in their entirety in modern potions. List them alphabetically by their common name and provide a short, pertinent description of their uses_."  
  
"He gave you flowers?" questioned Corinna blankly.  
  
"He changed it after you left," said Sophia a bit sheepishly.  
  
"It was probably something nasty. He just felt sorry for you after reading that note out. And he should have," said Sissy, who was completely unruffled.  
  
Sophia pulled the note from her pocket and said, "I think he was, actually. He gave it to me so that I could see it for myself."  
  
"Oh," said Olivia, blinking a bit stupidly.  
  
"And?" asked Sissy.  
  
"It doesn't sound as unflattering when you read the last bit," Sophia commented, "but still..."  
  
"We know we shouldn't have, but we were bored and you always do better in potions than we do," said Olivia.  
  
"Well, you were right about something. I do respect him," said Sophia, adding silently, "_now more than ever_."  
  
"Are we pardoned then?" asked Sissy with a carefully arched eyebrow.  
  
"Of course," said Sophia, "but just be glad that I can't hold a grudge very well."  
  
"We are. Quite often, in fact," said Olivia with a slight smile.  
  
  
  
Dusk had fallen upon the castle when Cyrus Knowles made his way to the hospital wing. Twice he had attempted to visit a certain patient there only to be turned away by Madam Pomfrey because he was sleeping or not well enough to have visitors. Knowles suspected that his former rival and personal nemesis was not coping very well with his injury. Knowles knew something of what that was like to be injured during a time of crisis, a time when he was needed, from his own experiences, especially his experiences during the war. But that was another matter and one upon which he did not like to dwell needlessly.  
  
But as Knowles quietly slipped into the ward that evening, he knew that Poppy was not around. He had heard her speaking softly with Professor Vector at dinner and had excused himself early in hopes of having a word or two with Moody. He imagined that she had marked his disappearance and would be coming to scold him shortly, but Knowles did not care. He would not be put off any longer, even if it meant that he would have to endure the young mediwitch's ire.  
  
Alastor was dozing when he heard the sound of the privacy screen being moved aside. The sound drew him towards wakefulness like the tide drawing a ship toward the shore. He opened his eyes and turned his head to see Knowles making his way slowly and carefully toward his bed. His cane tapped softly upon the floor.  
  
"Cyrus," he acknowledged quietly as Knowles paused at his bed side.  
  
"Alastor," said the professor, feeling both surprised and relieved to hear his voice. To the best of his knowledge, Knowles had never called Alastor by his first name, not even when they were students. "Are you alone this evening?" he asked as his knee bumped into an empty chair by the bed.  
  
"Minerva left a while ago," said Alastor.  
  
"I can still smell her perfume," Knowles commented, taking a seat in the chair.  
  
He had asked the question because McGonagall moved like a cat. It could be very startling. The hall or staff room would seem silent and empty. Then all of the sudden the voice of Professor McGonagall would be practically in his ear, asking him if he was having a pleasant morning or whatever. He thought she was doing it deliberately to unnerve him and was trying to discover a method by which he could more easily detect her presence. He was having only a bit of luck.  
  
"How odd. I wasn't aware that she wore any," said Alastor.  
  
"I notice things now that I didn't before," said Knowles, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin on the top of his cane.  
  
"I imagine you do."  
  
"Are you ... in any pain, Alastor?" asked Knowles quietly.  
  
"A bit," the other wizard admitted, "but I think it will pass sooner or later."  
  
"It will," said Knowles without a trace of doubt in his voice. He spoke from experience. "Just be patient," he added.  
  
"I'll try," said Moody with a slight nod. "A portkey to St. Mungo's is being arranged for me. Poppy says they'll take me away in the morning," he informed Knowles.  
  
"Martin Dumbledore will be very sorry to see you go," he replied.  
  
"It can't be helped. The wound is on its way to becoming infected, and she can't seem to stop it. Of course, she's never handled anything like this before..."  
  
"Thankfully, no," said Knowles with a grimace.  
  
"May I ask a favor of you, Cyrus? I know you don't owe me anything, but..."  
  
"Just ask, and I will do what I can."  
  
"I have tried to look out for Martin since I've come here. I've tried and nearly failed. Perhaps I have failed him. Will you please look after him when I'm gone?"  
  
Knowles turned toward Moody, regarding him curiously and with a small measure of amazement. "You are entrusting his safety to me?"  
  
"If you are willing."  
  
"There are others who are much more capable, who ... could keep sharper eyes upon the boy than I can. I know many of the professors are quite fond of Albus's son. Wouldn't you rather ask one them?" questioned Knowles uneasily.   
  
He had no special feelings toward young Dumbledore, though his father had been his head of house, but he knew that Flitwick and Sprout thought very highly of the boy, despite the bouts of trouble he had got into, at least half of which were probably his own fault.  
  
"They aren't sitting where you are right now. You can always refuse, Cyrus."  
  
"No, I ... I will do what I can to keep young Dumbledore safe, though it may not be much good against so great of a foe," said Knowles with a serious expression.  
  
He did not tell Alastor that he considered it part of his duty as an instructor of defense to keep all of the students safe. He tried not to think about that as it seemed at times beyond his abilities.  
  
"Thank you," said Alastor with a grim expression. "Martin needs all the help he can possibly get."  
  
"As do we all," said Cyrus.  
  
"Yes," Moody agreed.  
  
He had not expected Moody to ask such a thing of him. In fact Knowles had imagined that Alastor thought him incompetent, even after their altercation in the corridor just before Christmas. He still felt a twinge of pride whenever he thought of that incident, and silently praised and thanked those who had instructed him during his training and had allowed him that one moment of satisfaction. But as it turned out, Moody did not seem to think him completely inept nor did he seem to hold a grudge. Quite extraordinary considering that Moody was a Slytherin.  
  
Alastor yawned quietly.  
  
"You're tired. I should go," said Knowles, snapping out of his momentary reverie.  
  
"No, it's just the stuff Poppy's given me. I'm not _really_ tired," said Alastor a bit stubbornly.  
  
"You should be well rested for tomorrow when they transfer you to the hospital in London. I wouldn't fancy traveling by portkey in your condition."  
  
"I suppose..." Alastor acquiesced.  
  
Knowles smiled a little and said, "Listen to someone who knows about such things. Get all of the rest you can. Recuperate, Alastor. I imagine that when this is all over, you can still be of some use."  
  
He left the words 'unlike me' unspoken, thinking more of his lengthy sabbatical that had lasted through the last three years of the war than of his current situation. Three years of service; three years of angry complacency, hidden from the wizarding world and its woes. But that wouldn't be Moody's fate. Knowles felt sure of that.  
  
Alastor smiled grimly and just shook his head. He looked down at the outline of his leg beneath the covers. How could he be useful, especially as an _Auror_, if he could not even stand on his own two feet? He didn't even _have_ two feet to stand on anymore.  
  
"It will take time," said Knowles in a firm voice, "but you can do it. Your young friend believes in you, I'm sure, as does Miss Howard, and she doesn't know the half of what you're capable of."  
  
"John Howard's daughter, or didn't you know," commented Moody.  
  
"Silvestra Malfoy's daughter, or didn't _you_ know," the professor corrected with a sneer. He had overheard her when she had told Dumbledore that.  
  
"An unlikely combination," said Alastor.  
  
"You changed the subject masterfully, but I still must tell you that ... for what ever it might be worth ... I believe in you as well," said Knowles, leaving his seat.  
  
"What's that they say? Time will tell?"  
  
"I have heard that."  
  
"I suppose it will..."  
  
"Of course," nodded Knowles. "I must be going. I have work to do, and you truly must rest, Alastor."  
  
"Old hen," Moody muttered before yawning again.  
  
Knowles chuckled to himself and turned to go, drawing the screen behind him as he departed. Alastor was doing very well in his not-so-humble opinion. Better than he had expected. And he was very glad of it, though he already felt the weight of the burden that Alastor had put upon him and that he had willingly shouldered.  
  
"I will do what I must. Or, failing that, what I can," he thought resolutely as he left the hospital wing.  
  
  
  
Minerva McGonagall hoped that she was doing the right thing when she collected her son after dinner that evening in order to say good-bye to Alastor. She thought it would be better for Martin than learning that his uncle had been taken to St. Mungo's after the fact. Considering how they felt about each other, something Minerva had only encouraged, partly because of her son's too often lonely childhood, she thought it would only be fair that they have the opportunity to talk one more time. She did not believe Martin would be seeing Alastor until the summer, although she was rather certain that they would be reunited then.  
  
She had noticed the looks on the faces of his friends when she had called him away from them in the Entrance Hall. They had seemed very curious and a bit displeased, especially Miss Howard. McGonagall well imagined that she was taking Martin away from his studies, however briefly, and that had miffed the serious Ravenclaw. She considered perhaps having them to tea again, but she knew that it was not appropriate to be so familiar with one's students as that, whether they were friends with one's son or no.  
  
"Mum, are we going to visit Alastor?" Martin asked as they walked up the stairs that would take them to the hospital wing. She had not explained their errand.  
  
"Yes, I thought you would like that. I was in earlier, and he seemed a bit bored," she answered. There was, of course, no need to alarm him.  
  
"Who wouldn't be?" said Martin, although he had never been stuck in the hospital wing very long himself. He could imagine that Alastor, who was very active, would be quite restless there, especially if Madam Pomfrey were no longer giving him draughts that made him sleepy.  
  
Minerva chuckled affectionately, knowing just what he meant ... and agreeing with him. She had seen the inside of St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward more than once during her time as an Auror as both a visitor and a patient, not that she told her son such things. Such places could be quite boring, especially when the Healers were too insistent about 'giving things time to mend' and staying off one's feet for a bit and other nonsense like that.  
  
Alastor was fast asleep when he felt a slight jostle, which he identified rather quickly as being caused by someone sitting down on the bed. He opened his eyes to find Minerva McGonagall seated there. He was more than a little surprised as she had visited him only a few hours earlier. But the surprise was a pleasant one, especially as he noticed Martin standing at his other elbow.  
  
"Good evening," he murmured, reaching to pat Martin on the arm.  
  
The young wizard seemed worried, and he imagined that Minerva had informed him, against his suggestion, of his imminent departure. She was never one to take his advice.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Martin asked.  
  
"A bit better, I suppose," replied Alastor, although to be perfectly honest, he was still not over the shock of his missing limb. The blasted thing still itched and tingled from time to time. Madam Pomfrey said that it was to be expected and might continue to do so for some time to come. "And how're you, laddie?" he asked.  
  
"Fine," said Martin with only a bit of a smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes.  
  
"We thought we should visit before curfew," said McGonagall.  
  
"Quite right. I don't think Martin should be out of the tower after dark," nodded Alastor.  
  
"His father and I feel the same," she said, looking rather sternly at Martin.   
  
He knew it was a thinly veiled warning from all three of his family members. He took their point, but said nothing. He wasn't even certain if the Aerie was safe, warded or not. If the castle wards wouldn't keep the vampire at bay, what chance did the makeshift ones contrived by the faculty have? The vampire had been a professor too, after all, which is how Martin surmised that he had so easily gained access to the school.  
  
"I take it your mum has told you that I'm leaving tomorrow."  
  
"Leaving?" asked Martin with a peculiar sense of dread and anxiety.  
  
"Going to St. Mungo's," said Alastor, giving Minerva a sideways glance.  
  
"I didn't tell him. I thought it best if he heard it from you, Alastor."  
  
"For ... for how long?" asked Martin, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and looking down at the floor.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Not very long ... I hope," said Alastor, reaching toward him and patting his arm again. "They won't be able to keep me there when there's work to be done," he added. His voice was hollow, but he tried to put confidence into it.  
  
"I'll miss you," said Martin as the full weigh of the anxiety hit him.  
  
He had felt safer with Alastor around, always knowing that he had someone like him to run to if anything happened. Now that was being taken away from him. Even after the attack ... Martin had still felt more secure, knowing that Alastor was still there in the castle, than he did at that moment.  
  
A tear trickled from his eyes and he dashed it away as quickly as he could, but the tear did not go unnoticed.  
  
"There now, Martin. You don't have anything to cry about. I'll be back before you know it. Don't you think so, Minerva?" asked Alastor.  
  
"Of course you will be," she said crisply, "and I'm sure when summer comes, you'll be spending plenty of time with us."  
  
Moody looked at her with an unpleasant expression, taking her words to mean that he wouldn't be back in the field by then. But he could exactly argue about that with Martin so close to tears.  
  
"Certainly," he grudgingly agreed, reaching out his arm and pulling Martin closer, which required substantial effort in his current state. "Naught to cry about at all," he said.  
  
"I'm not crying," Martin insisted.  
  
This was, strictly speaking, true, but he was finding it quite difficult. He knew neither Alastor nor his mother would be disappointed in him for crying, but he hated to cry in front of his mum. Doing so made him feel silly and childish. He always wanted to be able to show her that he was just as strong as his father and his uncle were.  
  
With Alastor, it was a different matter. It was not about appearing to be something he was not nor even making the Auror proud by keeping a stiff upper lip.  
  
"My mistake," said Alastor. "You don't need to worry about me anyway."  
  
"Of course not," echoed Minerva, though she could see lines of strain on her former partner's face that had not been there earlier. Comforting Martin was taking a lot out of him. But she was glad that Alastor was doing it. He meant so much to her son.  
  
"I'll try to owl you," said Martin with a hesitant look at his mum.  
  
She smiled and said, "Certainly, Martin. That's a wonderful idea."  
  
Alastor favored his young friend with a pleased look and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll look forward to weekly letters from you, laddie, until I'm back in action again," he said, removing his arm.  
  
Martin nodded dutifully.  
  
"Say good-bye to your uncle, Martin, and I'll walk you back to your common room," said Minerva, leaving Alastor's bed side.  
  
"Can't we leave it at a good-night? I really do intend to come back and finish what I started, Minerva," said Alastor.  
  
He had made his mind up about that. He wanted to see the creature that was Christoph Somerville turn into a pile of dust and be scattered to the four winds. And at that moment, he knew that McGonagall didn't think him capable of it and that Martin possibly had his doubts, but thinking about what his former rival, Cyrus Knowles, had said... Alastor sincerely hoped that a few weeks -- and the fewer the better -- would find him up to the task. He had no intention of just _letting_ that vampire terrorize Martin nor anyone else involved for that matter.  
  
"Good-night, Alastor," said Martin with a rather grim smile.  
  
"G'night, laddie," said his uncle with a similar expression.  
  
Minerva hoped, as she led Martin out, that she had no cause for worry on either of their behalves, especially her son's.  
  
"A Slytherin and a Ravenclaw ... and I'm worried about them behaving recklessly. What is the world coming to?" she asked herself.

* * *

A/N: I'm very sorry about the slow updating.  
  
halfblood princess and Summer: I think this chapter told you what you wanted to know. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
snickerdoodle10201: Thank you very much!  
  
HMT: You're welcome!  
  
RavenSapphire: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for the review!  
  
Joou Himeko Dah: Krohn is a lot of fun to write. Thank you for reviewing!  
  



	49. Chances

Chapter Forty-nine  
  
Chances  
  
Weekend Quidditch practice was resumed that weekend for all of the school teams in hopes that it would keep the students from practicing illicitly during the dusky hours of the evening or early morning hours during the week. Many Quidditch players who were less aware of the danger the school was in were more than a bit miffed by the lack of quality practice time. Corinna was rather relieved, although the time the Ravenclaw team had drawn, which was from one to three o'clock in the afternoon on both Saturday and Sunday, was very unusual for the team. But she knew that the spring matches had very nearly been canceled altogether, though she decided not to share this information with her teammates.  
  
Of course Corinna had more than just Quidditch to think about that weekend. Following the harrowing events of the previous week, she wanted nothing more than to have a quiet spot of tea with Professor Mallaghan.  
  
Not so long after breakfast, she left the company of her friends, including a rather morose Martin, who had still not got over what had happen to his uncle, especially his rather abrupt departure from the school for St. Mungo's Hospital. Corinna slipped from the corner of the library that they had claimed and made her way to the Divinations' Tower.  
  
The secret door to the classroom was open when she arrived, which made Corinna smile because she knew that it meant that Professor Mallaghan was awaiting her arrival. That was quite encouraging, but not nearly as encouraging as the smell of tea and fresh baked ginger newts.  
  
"I was wondering when you would arrive, my dear," said Mallaghan as she stepped through the door.  
  
"I came from the library, professor. It's a long ways, you know," she said, taking her accustomed seat by the window.  
  
"I've heard many things about you and your friends these past few days," commented Joseph with a smile as finished preparing their tea and levitated the tray to a nearby table.  
  
Corinna winced and nodded, "I suppose you have, and none of it very good."  
  
"On the contrary, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall seem quite impressed with all of you, and as a student, McGonagall was never very keen on Divinations nor its practitioners, so that really is saying something. And the headmaster has spoken to me twice about your talents, not including that first night in the autumn. Don't sell yourself short, my dear," he chuckled.  
  
Corinna blushed a little bit, but shook her head. "I should have tried to warn Mister Moody," she explained.  
  
"Ah ... that," he said, taking a cautious sip from his teacup. "Well, sometimes things happen for a reason. The tides and currents of fate take people many places. What happen to young Alastor was unfortunate, but you are not to blame for it, not in the very least. The vampire is. It was his curse that inflicted the damage, after all," said Mallaghan.  
  
"But ..." said Corinna.  
  
"My dear, do you remember what I told you of my son?" he questioned.  
  
"That he could foresee things to come like I can," she said, furrowing her brow. The question seemed to have come out of the blue.  
  
"Thomas died trying to warn a Muggle town of a terrible attack that he had foreseen. His warning never reached them," Joseph informed her solemnly.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"It was the fate of Sedan to fall before the Germans and their Muggle weaponry. Thomas could not stop that. If what has happen to Alastor was his fate, then you could not have changed it, and perhaps it was for the best that you did not try. I can only speculate, but I do not believe any happy ending would have come from it if you had warned him," he told Corinna.  
  
"We'll never know," she said, "and I am very sorry about that."  
  
"Only very rarely do we know what might have been," he nodded, patting her knee and looking at her very sadly. "I don't often wish to know such things myself, but you are young, and for the most part, you are unafraid. I can hardly blame you for wanting that," said Mallaghan.  
  
"Thank you," she said softly, thinking about what he had said.  
  
"You are more than welcome," he chuckled quietly, though the sadness did not leave his eyes.  
  
"But I can change some things," said Corinna with a serious look, remembering the night when Olivia should have been harmed by the vampire and she had inadvertently put Martin in harm's way. They had all escaped nearly unscathed. In retrospect, that night no longer seemed so terrible as it had before.  
  
"Yes, you can, my dear," he told her with a nod.  
  
"But ... how can I tell what events ..."  
  
He held up his hand and interrupted, "You cannot, or if you can, the method is beyond my paltry skills. Intuition may guide you, as it did this time. Was it not that which made you reluctant to impart to Mister Moody the knowledge you possessed?"  
  
"I'm not sure," she replied with a frown, "but maybe it was."  
  
Mallaghan smiled at her very thoughtfully, noting the serious expression in her eyes. There was much strength and determination to be found in them, if someone looked hard enough. He knew that Corinna would need both traits in spades.  
  
"You are a very young Seer, Miss Bellew, and by my reckoning, you have the potential to be very great too, but that greatness will only come through the passage of time. And it will not come easily. I worry that the road ahead will be a difficult one for you, but for as long as I may ... I will be here to help you," said Joseph, placing his hand on top of one of hers.  
  
Corinna felt grateful and relieved at his words, and knowing that he was a Hufflepuff, she had no doubts about whether he would be true to his oath or not. She knew that he would be, and that comforted her more than anything she could think of. She would always have someone with whom to share her experiences with her 'gift', though she could hardly consider it that in light of the horror of what she had known and seen in regards to Alastor Moody.  
  
"Thank you, professor," she told him. "That really means a lot to me."  
  
Mallaghan smiled kindly and said, "Well, you know, all of the other professors have prodigies in their disciplines whose progress they follow through school with the utmost care and diligence. I haven't had someone with your skills to come along in nigh on thirty years. I consider it a privilege to offer you any assistance I may."  
  
No matter what her friends might think or say concerning her abilities, Corinna knew she would always have an ally in Professor Mallaghan.  
  
  
  
Sophia, Olivia, Sissy, and Martin were studying quietly in the library while Corinna had her conversation with Professor Mallaghan. Snow was no longer falling outside, but it was bitterly cold and therefore perfectly satisfactory to all that they remained sequestered indoors with their studies.  
  
Olivia was assisting Martin with his Charms' assignment, which was quite elementary to her, while Sissy and Sophia did some much needed research on their extra assignments from Krohn. The others had not begun yet, although it was due to be returned on Monday, at which time they imagined that the professor would give them something else to do. Only Sophia could be said to be looking forward to this. Sissy had a very sour look on her face as she flipped through a book on restoratives. Not at all her cup of tea, and she thoroughly resented it.  
  
"You know ... with a bit of additional effort, you could probably join us in Charms' next year," said Olivia as she read a portion of Martin's essay on basic Charm theory. He was really quite advanced for his age, or at least Olivia thought so.  
  
"Thanks, but wouldn't I miss out on an awfully lot of important spells?" he asked with a slight blush.  
  
That slight change in color was the most life he had shown since Alastor's departure. Martin had already sent his uncle a letter by owl, but the reply was slow to come. He was growing anxious and even more unhappy.  
  
"I suppose ... but I could tutor you," said Olivia with a smile and a slight prod. Not enough to garner a reaction from the sad young wizard.  
  
"You'll be doing that anyway, won't you?" questioned Sissy in a somewhat surly tone of voice. They were disturbing her concentration.  
  
"I was just saying ..." said Olivia.  
  
"Of course," sighed Sissy, returning her attention to the rather irksome book on the table in front of her.  
  
"You two should really start on those assignments. They won't write themselves, you know," said Sophia rather seriously, shaking her quill at Martin, who had received his orders after the girls, and at Olivia.  
  
Olivia just stuck her tongue out at Sophia. She didn't need to be told that, and neither did Martin, but beginning a task so irksome on Saturday... That was an awful thought. She felt disgusted even thinking about the potion she was supposed to research. Martin, in her opinion, had got off easily with his cataloguing of snake venoms and their uses, although she could well imagine that some of those uses were unpleasant.  
  
"May I interrupt for a moment?" asked a voice from behind Olivia that made her start.  
  
She turned to see Ignatius Ambrose standing there with his arms behind his back, peering down at her and her friends like they were insects of some sort, but then he was the Quidditch captain and they were only second years, except in Martin's case.  
  
"Er ... certainly, but Corinna isn't with us at the moment," said Olivia.  
  
"I'm not looking for _her_. She's due on the pitch in about forty minutes," said Ambrose. "I wanted to start training a new Beater for next term, Scarrow, if you're still interested."  
  
"Of- of course!" she stammered.  
  
"Excellent. See you on the pitch then, and don't be late," said the prefect.  
  
"I just need to grab my bat," said Olivia hastily, scrambling from her seat.  
  
He raised an eyebrow and asked, "You have your own bat?"  
  
Olivia smiled mischievously and said, "That's right. I've had it for a while now too, so I know how to use it. Do you mind if I bring it to practice?"  
  
"You've got to use an official one for games ..."  
  
"It is official," she assured him quickly.  
  
Ambrose looked rather relieved, not to mention slightly incredulous, as he had not actually expected to find a decent player in Scarrow, despite the fact that he was willing to give her a shot at Bellew's word. The team was going to be desperate next term, which was leading the captain to recruit a bit more heavily than his predecessor had, but now he didn't think he would have any worries from Scarrow. He was looking forward to seeing her in action.  
  
"That's just fine then. Our equipment's beginning to look a mite shoddy, so it's probably for the best that you've your own," nodded Ambrose.  
  
"I'll just go and get it then," said Olivia, looking absolutely elated at the prospect of practicing with the house Quidditch team. She wasn't sure whether Corinna knew or not, but she hoped to surprise her.  
  
Corinna hated sitting in the locker room before practice, although it was a little more pleasant that afternoon. The house elves had brought hot chocolate, and Ambrose was conspicuously absent, meaning that Sexton couldn't pick a fight with him, although the Chaser looked a bit too subdued for that.  
  
She readily attributed this to the vampire attack of the previous week. Many students, especially the older ones and those in the prefecture, who were aware of the events and the danger, were likewise more solemn and serious, though many of the younger ones remained all but oblivious. Given the senior character of the Ravenclaw team, they all seemed more serious than normal.  
  
"Of course, if they weren't, I would be _very_ concerned," thought Corinna, watching Sexton fiddled with the Quaffle as he lay on the bench that he always staked out for himself at early practices.  
  
But she didn't have very long to muse about such things after finishing her chocolate.  
  
"All right. Off your duffs!" called Ambrose as he strode purposefully into the locker room. "We've got a new Beater for next year to train starting today, and we don't have nearly enough time for the usual stuff as it is. We've got to practice extra hard this afternoon," he continued.  
  
Corinna's head snapped up at the words _new Beater_. She grinned from ear to ear when she saw Olivia twirling her bat in one hand behind Ambrose and holding a school broom in her other hand, resting it against her shoulder as she stood there. Olivia winked at her secretively and smirked proudly. All of Corinna's gloomy thoughts were thrust aside as she realized that she would be playing Quidditch, or at least practicing, with her friend for the rest of the term.  
  
"Why not leave off her training until the start of school next year?" asked Sexton with a yawn.  
  
"Because we'll be in a right bind if we've got to train _four_ new players. Three'll be a bloody nightmare as it is," Ambrose shot back at him. "On your feet ... all of you," he ordered, grabbing his broom from where he had deposited it earlier.  
  
Sexton groaned derisively, which was something Corinna had not thought possible until meeting him, and tossed the Quaffle at Ambrose's head. The captain caught it neatly, but said nothing. He only looked at Sexton in a vaguely superior fashion and exited the locker room.  
  
"Nice lot," Olivia commented to Corinna in a low voice after watching the exchange.  
  
"You get used to it," she shrugged, picking up her outdated broomstick and walking out with her friend.  
  
Olivia had changed into warmer clothes when she went for her Beater's bat, and she was very glad that she had done so. It was very cold for the beginning of February. Although Olivia enjoyed winter and the outdoors in general, she found it to be unpleasantly nippy at best. The wind stung her ears and nose as she mounted her broom to fly with the team. The sensation was exhilarating, but she would have gladly traded it for some decent, warmer weather.  
  
She had only naturally seen the team on the field before, flying high above the stands during matches, but to be flying with them was a different thing entirely. She loved it instantly.  
  
The movements of her soon-to-be teammates were so fluid and coordinated as they practiced passing the Quaffle back and forth. Ambrose was a masterful captain, and Parker and Sexton followed his lead like professionals. No sign of enmity could be found on the pitch, not even between Alec and Ignatius. The three Chasers acted as one cohesive unit.  
  
And Olivia smiled as she realized that the team's Keeper had come into her own, defending the goals with a more than practiced ease that proved how much Corinna deserved the position. She had truly improved, despite the much interrupted practice schedule. She seemed more confident on her broom and far less anxious than she had been during the matches Olivia had watched. Of course, she had never seen Corinna practice, so perhaps she only had nerves during the actual games.  
  
Another surprise for Olivia was the team's reserve Beater, who was up for a bit of practice that afternoon while Cole and Savage watched from the ground and discussed strategy. Edgar Bonham was a fourth year, like Sexton and the reserve Chaser, and he was rather brawny for such a young Ravenclaw, but he certainly looked the part of a Beater, unlike Olivia who was of an average size for her age. Bonham winked at Olivia as he hit the Bludger in her direction, intending for them to pass it back and forth between the Chasers to simulate a real match.  
  
Of course, no one had mentioned to Olivia that she wasn't really supposed to try and take the other players off their broomsticks in practice.  
  
She grinned wolfishly at Bonham and whacked the ball toward Sexton, wondering if a good Bludger to the midsection would change his surly locker room attitude. With wide-eyes and a rather surprised expression, Bonham zipped to intercept it.  
  
Olivia kept pace with him as he flew, watching her Bludger rocket toward its intended target, who had the Quaffle tucked neatly underneath one arm and was soaring with a half-carefree, half-determined look on his face toward Corinna and the goals.  
  
"Oy! Bellew! Hold on to your broom. You're drifting again!" yelled Sexton, raising his arm to toss the Quaffle for a goal. Corinna was waving frantically at him.  
  
"You've got to get a better ... Oof!"  
  
The Bludger caught him directly in the stomach, which was no surprise to Olivia as her aim was very good, and Sexton never finished his statement. He flipped over in the air on his broom, losing the Quaffle in the process, and just managed to maintain his grip with his knees as he spiraled downward, winded and disoriented.  
  
"Merlin's Beard, Scarrow!" bellowed Ambrose. "What do you mean by doing that?" asked the Quidditch captain in midair.  
  
"I thought ..." she began, coming to a halt and watching Sexton, who had not even attempted to dodge the Bludger.  
  
"She thought we were playing for keeps," said Bonham, who had admired the shot, especially since it had shut Sexton up, though there was a rueful look on his face. He had not been able to stop the Bludger.  
  
Parker had flown down to check on Alec, and Savage and Cole had rushed onto the pitch to see about him as well. The two Beaters were smirking ever-so-slightly.  
  
"Weren't we?" asked Olivia, glancing down at Sexton, who was lying on his back on the grass and coughing.  
  
"This is supposed to be a practice, not a free for all! It takes more than brute force to be an effective Beater. You can't just hit the ball at the nearest player and hope it addles them or something. This requires strat-eh-gy," the captain said, stretching the word out.  
  
"You've got to learn to protect your teammates while giving the opposition a rough time of it. Learning to do that takes practice. You could learn a lesson or two from Savage and Cole. I'd recommend you staying to watch them when their turn comes up," continued Ambrose.  
  
"I'll ... I'll remember that," Olivia told him.  
  
"See that you do," he said before flying down to chat with Sexton, who was sitting up and looking very surly indeed.  
  
Olivia glanced at Corinna to find her smiling. She looked at the Keeper quizzically and zoomed over to ask what was so amusing.  
  
"Sexton was right in the middle of teasing me about my broom," she said, managing to hold it steady as they spoke.  
  
"Then I guess he had it coming," said Olivia with a shrug.  
  
"Maybe, but now you should keep an eye on him. He's probably going to try to get you back for that," said Corinna, although not very seriously. Alec wasn't exactly the vengeful type, not like a certain Slytherin they both knew, but he had a very sharp tongue.  
  
"I'm the one with the bat, you know," answered Olivia, twirling it almost idly in her hands as they waited for Sexton to mount his broom again.  
  
Corinna could hardly wait to have her on the team.

* * *

A/N:  
  
RavenSapphire: I like Ravenclaw (obviously) and Slytherin too. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
darksabernight: Thank you!  
  
halfblood princess and Summer: Thanks for the review!  
  
H. Sibelius: Glad to see you. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Joou Himeko Dah: Thank you!  
  
Masked One: Thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.  
  



	50. Loyalty

Chapter Fifty

Loyalty

_He could feel cold fingers touching his throat and smell the scent of decay heavy in the air around him, choking and smothering him despite the chill in the air and the unnatural coldness of those groping fingers that lightly, but hungrily pulled and tugged his nightshirt away from his skin. Martin wanted to open his mouth and scream. He wanted to fight back and struggle like mad against the thing that was so close, so dangerously close to him, but he was frozen where he was and absolutely helpless._

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as the first buttons of his shirt were undone and his neck was fully exposed. He managed a slight twitch away from the invasive hands that turned his head to one side to expose his jugular. He thought he heard a slight hiss of delight. The vampire, he remembered, liked to have fun with its prey before the end.

Martin wondered if it planned to kill him or to change him. He feared both, but he fervently hoped for the former, knowing that he could not exist as a blood-drinking creature, shunned by all and never free to see the sun nor feel its warmth again.

Death was only the next great adventure.

He told himself that over and over again as he felt icy lips upon his neck and the painful sensation of fangs sinking deep into the skin. Martin wanted to cry out, but he could only clench his fists at his sides as the life blood was drained from his body. He gasped as another sort of coldness overtook him from the inside out as the fangs were withdrawn from his flesh.

A cool, yet gentle tongue licked the puncture wounds upon his throat.

Martin could feel himself changing. His heart ceased to pound. It was silent in his chest. His mortal body was dead, though he was not. He was a vampire.

"I'm one of the undead now...." he realized as the last bit of warmth faded and left his body.

Then cool and moist lips touched his own. He could taste the blood upon them ... his blood. It had no taste to him either pleasant or unpleasant. It simply was.

Martin opened his eyes with ease now and found himself staring at the blood besmirched face of Alastor Moody.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it, laddie?" his uncle asked him.

Suddenly, Martin found that he couldn't stop screaming.

"Wake up, Martin! Wake up!" called a somewhat stern, but mostly anxious voice that was quite familiar to him.

Someone was shaking him hard by the shoulders. Martin's eyes flew open to find Julian Woodward seated on the bed next to him. His throat was raw. He shuddered as he tasted blood, having bitten his tongue during the nightmare. The taste was nauseating to him and made him want to gag.

"Martin, you were just having another nightmare," Julian assured him as he coughed and sat up in bed.

It was not his first since Alastor's injury and subsequent departure, merely the most disturbing.

"Hell of a nightmare," said Middleton over the shoulder of his roommate.

All of the other boys were staying farther back in case anything more should happen. In situations like this, accidental magic was not uncommon.

Martin touched his throat and looked at his hand. There was no blood, only a little perspiration. Barely even that. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"All right?" asked Woodward.

"Yeah..." said Martin softly.

"You gave us quite a scare," said the other boy, slowly leaving the bed, where he had been sitting, and frowning. Woodward wasn't an easy book to read, but he wasn't exactly hiding his feelings either. Martin could tell by his manner and expression that he had experienced something of a fright and was still nervous.

"We've got a right to know what it was about," said Middleton.

"Vampire," Martin muttered, putting a hand to his throat again and checking the buttons of his nightshirt. They were all in place and done up properly. Just a dream and nothing more.

"No surprise, is it?" commented Halliday.

The others shook their heads and looked more than a bit uncomfortable. Two weeks had passed since the last attack, the one that had nearly claimed the life of Martin's uncle. The vampire had not been sighted, but there were rumors from the forest. That was enough to frighten them. They all knew it was only a matter of time before it came for Martin again. They were dreading that for many reasons, their own safety not least of all.

"You should all go back to bed," said Martin.

"We wouldn't want to wake the prefects," said Prentice, who was still looking quite terrified. He was clutching a blanket around his shoulders as though for protection.

"Right..." agreed Woodward.

Having something else in mind, however, Martin slipped out bed, stopping all motion in the room. "I want to sit downstairs for a while ... until my nerves ... are better," he explained haltingly, not knowing what to tell them other than that.

"Don't leave the tower," warned Woodward.

"I won't. I can promise you that," he answered somberly.

Even at nearly half past five in the morning, Martin wasn't surprised to see Corinna sitting downstairs in the common room, waiting for him more likely than not. He was still too shaken for anything else to register, even the fact that she had two blankets with her, one of which was draped around her shoulders. The other was lying neatly folded near at hand. She looked at him with a sympathetic expression and gestured for him to take the blanket and sit down.

"I knew you would be coming," Corinna told him.

"I should warn you," he said, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and hunching forward, "I don't know if I'm going to be sick or not." The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, making his stomach roil with nausea.

"I don't think you will be," she said, laying a hand on his back.

"Do you know ... what I dreamed about tonight?" he questioned.

"No, but I heard you shouting. I'm surprised you didn't wake the whole tower," she said candidly. "I was already waiting," Corinna added with what was possibly a slightly self-satisfied smile.

"Thanks," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Was it ... awful?" she asked, rubbing his shoulders very gently.

"Yes," he whispered as his eyes began to sting with unshed tears. "I was bitten ... by a vampire ... when I opened my eyes ... it was ... it was..." and Martin couldn't finish the sentence. It was too terrible to put into words.

He felt like retching, but he imagined even that could not take the image from his mind. A sob wracked his body, but he could not suppress it. Suddenly Corinna's arms were wrapped tightly around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. He buried his head in her shoulder as he collapsed into helpless tears.

"It's all right...." she whispered soothingly.

"Alastor ... it was Alastor," he sobbed.

Corinna's stomach knotted as she realized that it was worse than she had even imagined when the knowledge of Martin sitting disconsolate in the common room had awakened her. Much worse by far.

She hushed him again and said, "It wasn't real. He's safe, Martin. He's away from here and safe now. And so are you. You're safe here."

"For how long?" he asked, hiccuping as he spoke.

"For as long as we can keep you that way," said a firm and resolute voice from the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Sissy was standing there with the others just behind her.

"Forever," said Olivia in a vehement tone.

"And always," said Sophia with a solemn nod and a fiery look in her dark, expressive eyes.

Martin lifted his head and stared at them gratefully. He was unmindful of the tears of his face until Corinna began to dry them with the sleeve of her robe.

"And don't even try to thank us. We're all in this together," said Olivia, causing the words to die on his lips.

Sophia and Olivia made their way to where they were sitting and took a seat on either side of Martin and Corinna. Sissy stood just behind the couch and looked down at the quartet with a neutral expression as Olivia, in an uncharacteristic gesture of tenderness, ruffled Martin's already sleep-mussed hair.

"Together," Corinna told Martin resolutely.

That made Martin smile just a little bit, though his eyes continued to water. "Of course," he said, trying his best to believe what they said and take it to heart.

"We'll weather this. Try not to fret about it, Martin; not anymore than you need to, anyway," said Sophia with a somber and serious look.

"With nightmares like that...." he said softly, shaking his head.

"I'll ask Professor Mallaghan about it, if you think it means anything," offered Corinna quickly.

"No, it was just a bad dream, nothing more," he said with a slight shudder. "I'm sorry everyone had to get out of bed for me," he added with a slightly chagrined expression.

Olivia laughed and said, "We haven't had any excitement in weeks now." She gave him a slight prod with her elbow. "I suppose we were due for a bit," she added with a friendly smile.

"Too bad it had to be at your expense," said Sophia.

Sissy, who had been rather quiet as she observed her friends as they comforted Martin, something with which she was simply not as comfortable, told them, "And since the excitement is over, we really should send Martin back to bed. We may not have classes tomorrow, but...."

"No one wants to fall asleep at the breakfast table," Olivia finished for her in a sing-song voice.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep," he confessed, "but I know you're right."

"Just try. I don't think you would have another nightmare," said Sophia with a sympathetic look.

"I hope not," he said, but he felt reassured by that statement.

"And if you do ... I'll try to be right here, waiting for you," promised Corinna.

"Now off to bed with you," said Sissy, motioning toward the stairs leading to his dormitory.

Martin nodded and left the couch, glancing at the four girls, his best friends in all the world, one last time. Then he did exactly as Sissy had instructed him. He was more than glad to have people like them in his life. He was certain that he would never be able to manage without them, and he didn't even want to think about trying.

Sissy watched Martin return to his dormitory with trudging steps. She sat down in her favorite chair and drew her feet up. She watched at the other girls made themselves more comfortable on the couch. Obviously they had no intention of going to bed at present. Sissy was certain that she could return to sleep immediately, but she didn't especially want to do that as she observed the grim and thoughtful expressions of her friends.

"We could start slipping him a Dreamless Sleep potion before bed every night," suggested Sissy in a wry tone of voice. "I have no doubt that Sophia could concoct one," she added.

"Put it in his pumpkin juice at dinner?" Olivia suggested.

"I don't know..." said Corinna doubtfully. "I know his nightmares must be awful, but isn't it better for him to get it out of his system? Let everything he's been through run its natural course?"

"That's a thought," said Sophia, who didn't much care for the idea of making an illegal sleeping draught and slipping it to Martin. She could only imagine what Professor Krohn would think of that!

"Something ought to be done," insisted Olivia.

"You're right," nodded Sissy, "but what can we _really_ do about Martin's nightmares? He's been having them for most of the term, hasn't he?"

"They are getting worse," said Corinna. The others looked at her quizzically. "He doesn't cry very often, though I'm sure if I were in his position...."

"Your point is well taken," said Sissy with a frown.

She wasn't certain how she would handle everything that had happened to Martin, but she did not think her reactions would be any better. She counted herself fortunate that she seldom remembered her dreams or nightmares.

"Maybe we should ... mention it to his parents," said Corinna in a doubtful tone.

"We cannot tell Martin's mum. Can you imagine his reaction?" asked Olivia.

"He would consider it a betrayal," said Sophia quietly.

"The headmaster?" questioned Sissy, arching an eyebrow, though for her the suggestion was not as serious.

"No," said Sophia, shaking her head, "Martin wouldn't want us to do that either. If he tells his parents what's going on, it must be because he has decided to do so, not because we made that decision for him. These are only nightmares. They will pass in time."

"Of course, they will," Corinna acquiesced, leaning forward on the couch and resting her chin in her hands. "You probably know best," she added, giving Sophia her due.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," said Sophia.

"Do you have any other ideas, Corinna?" asked Sissy carefully.

"Everything seems so foggy and distorted. What I know and what I can see is so ever-changing that I don't even begin to understand it. The future could turn out so many different ways and ... some of them are so horrible," she told them.

"How horrible?" asked Olivia, wondering if Corinna was holding out on them again or if she merely did not know anything for certain.

"We could die," she answered. "All of us...."

Some of the flashes of things that she was just beginning to see even negated her prophetic dream of her own death.

Martin awoke the next morning to the trilling song of a phoenix perched upon the window sill. His year mates were already gone. They had decided to let Martin have a lie in and vacated the room as quietly as possible some time earlier that morning. They all knew that he needed more sleep whenever he could get it. Martin was grateful for the consideration.

"Fawkes," he acknowledged, noticing that the scarlet colored avian had a scrap of parchment in his talons. The phoenix was not usually a messenger bird, but he sometimes made exceptions for Professor Dumbledore.

Fawkes trilled again and swooped gracefully through the window. He landed upon Martin's bed and invited the young wizard to take the parchment from him.

"Thank you," said Martin as he took the note and unfolded it.

The phoenix preened and regarded him with a superior and somewhat haughty expression as he read.

"_Would you care to have a late breakfast with your parents? We missed seeing you in the Great Hall this morning. Mister Woodward informed us, when questioned, that you were sleeping in after having something of a 'rough night'. Your father and I are very concerned. Please send a response back with Fawkes and join us in the headmaster's office as soon as you can. Love, Mum_."

Martin winced visibly and turned the note over to send back a reply, for which Fawkes was patiently waiting. He grabbed a quill from the bed side table and scrawled what amounted to an affirmative.

After giving it to the phoenix, which flew away immediately, having no doubt more important things he could be doing, Martin began getting dressed in a hasty fashion. He could hardly believe that Julian had let it slip to his mother and father that he was having nightmares. Woodward was rather intelligent. Couldn't he have made up something to tell them? Studying? With the girls? Darning his socks? Was that so unreasonable to ask?

Martin felt quite grumpy, although very well rested, when he left the dormitory that morning, dashing toward his father's office to meet with his parents. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell them or how he was going to explain as a significant portion of his mind was occupied by thoughts of having words with Julian. But regardless of that, he knew that it was going to be a long and possibly unpleasant morning.

A small table had been set up in the office of the headmaster when Martin arrived. He wondered in passing why they weren't eating in his mum's office or his father's rooms, but decided not to ask as he sat down in the unoccupied chair. His mum was already sipping a cup of tea, and there was a book propped on the table in front of her, which was promptly removed as Martin sat down. It was a transfigurations text, he noticed. His father was reading _The Daily Prophet_ and stroking his beard thoughtfully. Dumbledore neatly folded up the paper, glanced over his spectacles at his wife, and tucked the paper into one of his many and ample pockets.

"Good morning, Martin," said his father, pouring a glass of juice for him. 

He knew that careful, almost cautious tone that his father was using and shifted in his seat accordingly. His parents had probably just finished an argument. Unless it was still going on.... Oh, not a _good_ morning at all.

"Morning, Father," he answered quietly.

"Have some eggs while they're warm," said his mother, passing a dish containing scrambled eggs to him.

"Thank you," he said, watching his mum shoot his father what looked like a warning glance.

"You shouldn't skip breakfast, Martin. It isn't healthy," she told him, forking kippers onto his plate for him.

"I didn't mean to...." he said.

"Of course not," she said quickly. "You should always try to get enough sleep too," Minerva told him, nodding.

"Don't smother him, dear. He hasn't had a nice day so far," said his father with a warm look at Martin.

"And you, I thought we had decided that he was going to have a proper breakfast before we brought up any of that," said Minerva crisply.

"Erm...." Martin began.

They both looked at him very expectantly.

"You were going to say something?" asked his mother with raised eyebrows.

"If it was all the same to you, I would rather not talk about what happened last night. I imagine you heard everything you need to hear from Woodward," he said, coloring slightly, but keeping the bitterness from his tone.

"I dare say it isn't 'all the same to us'!" objected Minerva in a shocked tone of voice. "You're our son! And we care about you a great deal. If you're having these nightmares and ... and waking your house mates up ... we deserve to know about it!" she told him.

"But I can take care of myself, mum. I have everything under control," said Martin, putting down his fork.

"That isn't what I've heard..." began his mother sternly.

"Minerva, Martin, please don't argue during breakfast. There's plenty of time for that after," said Dumbledore.

"He's avoiding the issue," she said, forgetting that it was her own idea to wait until after Martin had eaten to discuss the subject.

"As would I," shrugged the headmaster, "especially if my eggs were getting cold."

She looked at her husband with a disbelieving expression, but said nothing more. Martin turned his attention to his plate, knowing that the only way he would avoid discussing the horrifying dream from the night before was to eat, even though he didn't especially feel like it. At this point, the Dumbledore family ate their breakfast in not very companionable silence.

"You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to," Minerva decided when they had all finished their meal, "but we are very worried about you."

"I know," said Martin as his mother reached toward him and squeezed his hand.

Albus regarded them with a mildly relieved expression. Both mother and son could be very stubborn and intractable, but they seemed to be behaving quite sensibly for the moment.

"It was just another nightmare about the vampire ... and Uncle Alastor," Martin shrugged, choosing not to go into the gory and unpleasant details of the encounter, especially so soon after eating.

"Alastor is fine, Martin. You don't need to worry about him. He'll be back on his feet ... well, he will be all right," his mother assured him. "And as for the vampire ... your father is doing everything in his power to see that it doesn't hurt anyone else," she explained patiently.

As much as Martin loved his mum, he wished that she didn't use that patronizing tone when speaking to him. It was rather ironic in this situation. He knew so much about the vampire situation that he didn't need anyone to tell him what was being done. He knew that teachers were patrolling the corridors in pairs at night, acting very much like the prefects had when there was no vampire to worry about ... how ever long ago that had been. Martin was also quite aware that Ogg and Hagrid were keeping watch upon the grounds too. None of that comforted him, but he knew what was being done.

"I know," he said simply, looking rather grim for his tender years. He wanted to add that knowing all of that would not help his nightmares one bit, but he didn't think his parents wanted to hear that.

"Good," said his mother with nod.

"Do you think it will come back here to feed again soon?" Martin asked after a pause. He knew that it was due...

"Possibly," said his father slowly, "but we intend to be ready for it." He paused thoughtfully and added, "Of course, it may choose to feed in the forest for now and bide its time, thinking we will let down our guard, which is something we most certainly will not do."

Martin couldn't help but to feel just a bit reassured by that. Maybe the vampire would stay in the forest for a while ... until he knew how he would deal with it ... until someone could tell him how to solve the problem without anyone else, himself included, being injured ... or killed ... or changed. He just needed some time and some help, though he imagined he would have neither. But his father had given him hope.

* * *

A/N:

Joou Himeko Dah: Thank you!

h sibelius: Thanks for reviewing!

halfblood princess: I would have been pointing and laughing too. Thanks for the review!


	51. A match to remember

Chapter Fifty-one

A match to remember

Contrary to predictions made by Ignatius Ambrose, Ravenclaw was slated to play against Gryffindor on the second Saturday in March. This meant that the reserve players, and Olivia, who was attending every practice, were sent back to the sidelines while the regular players took to the field to prepare themselves for the final match of the season. Gryffindor was certainly no pushover, and Ravenclaw was desperate to finish the Quidditch season with a win that would put them in second place, after the undefeated Lions, and put them closer to winning the House Cup, for which they were in second place, also after Gryffindor. And no one enjoyed being second fiddle to the house of scarlet and gold.

The past weeks, which had only just begun to fill with talks of Quidditch, had been relatively tranquil, though Martin was continuing to have nightmares, most of a more subdued nature than the one that had caught the attention of his parents. He was receiving regular letters from Alastor, who had been fitted with a wooden leg that he was learning to use. These letters were slowly allaying his fears concerning what would become of his favorite uncle.

But a different shadow of fear and dread continued to stalk him, despite the fact that Martin did everything possible to keep that shadow at bay. He had finally made his decision regarding the vampire, but only time would tell if it were the correct one.

Much of school life had returned to normal, although the security measures all remained firmly in place and no one relaxed their guard as the general feeling was that the vampire remained a threat. But none of the teachers, except perhaps Professor Krohn, wanted their students to feel afraid or overly concerned, so talk about the fanged menace in the forest was kept to a minimum outside the staff room and offices.

Corinna was still trying to sort out what was going to happen before the end of the term. She felt quite certain that the matter would be resolved before then and told all of her friends so, including Martin, who was not informed of her prediction that they all might die. They unanimously agreed that Martin should not be privy to that tidbit of information as it seemed unhealthy for him to know that, mostly due to his nightmares and already low spirits.

Quidditch practice had kept her from Professor Mallaghan's office for the better part of three weeks, although they had exchanged owls, which always made Corinna feel much better. She wanted to share some of the things she knew and had seen with him, but could not begin to think how to do so without alarming him in the extreme. And that wasn't something she wanted to do at this point. In addition to that, she suspected that he would not be able to help her until she had pinned down more or less what would happen. Such information did not come for the asking either.

The other girls were worried, of course, by her predictions, but they were also well occupied by all of their schoolwork, keeping an eye on Martin, and watching out for Astrophel Black, who still seemed bent on wanting revenge. The early months of spring, at least as far as many young Ravenclaws were concerned, were the busiest part of the term, not counting end of term exams, and these Ravenclaws were no different.

On the day of the match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, the weather turned from fair skies to a drizzling spring rain, to the slight disappointment of players and spectators alike, although nothing could dampen their spirits entirely. After such an unpleasant winter, a game of Quidditch was a welcome diversion, rain or no rain.

Corinna had managed a light breakfast with the team, all of whom were very eager to face their Gryffindor rivals, even Alec Sexton, who normally reserved his enthusiasm for his confrontations with their captain. After the tie with Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw team was desperate for a win and wanted to end the season on the highest possible note, which meant defeating Gryffindor and claiming second place. Olivia had told her the odds, and they weren't especially good, but Corinna still felt hopeful as she looked at the determination on the faces of her teammates.

"They haven't practiced like we have," said Ambrose, furtively glancing over his shoulder at the opposing team, who were all eating together at their house table. Only the Quidditch teams were eating so early.

Corinna thought the Gryffindors seemed too boisterous and confident, rather cocky actually.

"Has anyone? Crikey, Ambrose, we've been at it every spare minute we've had," said Sexton with a slight sneer.

"Potter's getting soft," said Cole in a low growl, "but he's gone next year and I don't know if Prewett or Bailey would be his heir apparent."

"Not Prewett," said Parker.

"Not Bailey," said Savage with a smirk.

"Nice surprise for next year, aye?" laughed Ambrose shortly, not liking the idea of a Beater in charge of a Quidditch team. That was just asking for trouble in his opinion. Beaters were known for their tempers, not their leadership abilities.

"Just for Alec, Corinna, Edgar, and you," Manfred North pointed out to them with a wry smile. The rest of the team would be leaving school in May after taking their Newts.

"Our last match together as a team ..." said Ambrose.

"Wish we could go out in a blaze of glory," said Sexton in a half-wistful tone.

"Maybe we will," said Corinna.

The grass squelched beneath her boots as Corinna walked out onto the pitch with her teammates. The damp scent of rain and the outdoors was very pleasant and welcoming so early in the morning. Corinna breathed it in deeply, drinking in the fresh and wholesome smell that reminded her how much she enjoyed Quidditch. 

Helen Parker at her elbow wrinkled her nose and tried to keep her broom dry by holding it closer to her chest as she walked. Corinna had considered charming her clothes, but as none of her teammates had done it ... she decided against the measure. The cold and wet were both tolerable to her.

Sexton, walking a pace ahead of her, was grumbling about the weather in a low voice. The only indication of how important this game was to them was the stony silence that had settled over Ambrose as he led them out onto the pitch. He no longer smiled and hardly seemed to blink.

"Mount your brooms," Madam Hooch instructed both teams with a serious expression, but excitement in her oddly hawk-like eyes.

Corinna zipped to her position in from of the Ravenclaw goals as speedily as her broomstick would carry her, watching over her shoulder as William Potter, the Gryffindor captain and Chaser, out maneuvered Ambrose for the Quaffle. This was not the best way to start a match.

"Potter claims the Quaffle for Gryffindor!" shouted the announcer, Amos Diggory of Hufflepuff house, in a rather gleeful voice. He wasn't usually very biased in his announcing, but Corinna had the feeling that he favored Gryffindor over Ravenclaw.

Corinna braced herself as Potter rocketed down the pitch with Ambrose and Parker right at his heels. Sexton struck from above, nabbing the Quaffle from the surprised seventh year Chaser and quickly passing it to Ambrose, who wheeled around at break-neck speed and started toward the Gryffindor goals, narrowly avoiding a hard Bludger from Prewett. Corinna let out a sigh of relief.

Ambrose made it down the pitch and went for the goal, but the Gryffindor Keeper stopped the attempt with a natural ease that made Corinna envious. She hurled the ball to Algernon Longbottom, the team's youngest Chaser, who nearly crashed into Edith Savage. She threatened him with her bat, but the Bludger was across the field, being knocked back and forth by Prewett and Bailey, much to her chagrin.

The Quaffle was almost immediately retrieved by Sexton, who elbowed Longbottom in the face in the process. Corinna thought he was lucky not to have been fouled for cobbing. This time Alec kept possession as he sped by Ambrose near the middle of the field. Parker was at his left elbow, flying interference for him as Potter zoomed toward them.

Potter attempted to skin Parker to get her out of the way, but she would rather have died than let him bully her. She gave him a quick kick in the ribs to keep him off of her. That seemed to do the trick.

By this time Cole had intercepted the Bludger and knocked it directly at Potter. The vicious little ball sailed past him and nearly took a piece of out of Prewett's left shoulder. She grimaced, but thankfully -- from Gryffindor's perspective -- it had not made contact with her bat-arm.

"And Prewett takes one for the team!" yelled Diggory over the noise of the crowd.

Corinna tried not to roll her eyes.

Ambrose went for a goal, feinting left and then right before going for the left goal with every ounce of strength he possessed. The Quaffle grazed the Keeper's fingertips before sailing through the hoop. He let out a whoop of delight that carried all the way down field.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw! They're first on the board," announced Diggory.

Corinna grinned for a moment, but her smile faded as Potter took up the Quaffle again after a momentary scuffle with Ambrose. He was racing down field again. Potter performed a loop in mid air to avoid a Bludger sent by Savage. This threw him off course enough for Parker to have a go at taking the Quaffle from him, but he managed to shake her off rather easily. There was a wolfish grin on his face as he approached the goals.

She knew that she couldn't out maneuver him on her decrepit broom, especially considering his flying skills, but she had no choice but to defend the goals in any way that she could.

William threw the Quaffle toward the center goal, and Corinna desperately attempted to block it. Her heart soared as it hit her hand and bounced toward Parker, who caught it easily. Potter looked crestfallen but resolute as he went after the Ravenclaw Chaser. She was quick to pass the ball to Ambrose as he was well away from Potter, and the Gryffindor menace, Molly Prewett. This was a neat bit of teamwork.

"That was a close one for Ravenclaw," said Diggory in a half-wistful tone.

Corinna blinked as North and the Gryffindor Seeker Archie Pettigrew flew by her at top speed, certainly after the Golden Snitch, though Pettigrew, who was in his sixth year and a rather decent Seeker, also had a Bludger on his tail courtesy of Devin Cole. She couldn't follow their progress as she was concentrating on the action from the Chasers, but she imagined that little Pettigrew would be able to shake off the Bludger without losing sight of the Snitch.

Ambrose went for a goal, but was thwarted by Angelica Hooper, the Keeper for Gryffindor, who immediately tossed the Quaffle back to Potter.

The match went on for a long time with the Quaffle being tossed back and forth and the two Seekers valiantly attempting to nab the Snitch, but few points were scored and the little golden ball remained illusive. Gryffindor was ahead by twenty points when the rain finally began to let up. That was hardly an insurmountable lead as the Ravenclaws showed no sign of giving up.

Corinna brushed her rain-plastered hair away from her face, grateful that the rain had mostly helped her to keep it out of her way.

Across the pitch Ambrose was trying for another goal with Parker and Sexton flanking him to keep the Gryffindor Chasers at bay. They were doing a good job, and it looked like he was going to reach his destination unopposed. Then a Bludger from Bailey caused Sexton to swerve off course, nearly crashing into Manfred, who had been scouting high above the pitch until just moments before. This gave Longbottom the opportunity to the knock the Quaffle out of Ambrose's hands. It was retrieved almost instantly by Potter, who had very sharp reflexes.

The expert Chaser looped vertically in mid air and started toward the Ravenclaw goal posts. Corinna had not been able to block several shots from Potter, although to be fair the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams had fared no better against him. But she was ready this time as she had a pretty good idea of which way he was going to feint.

As Potter lifted his arm to hurl the Quaffle toward the left goal, after feinting sharply to the left and rolling over in mid air to reposition, everything seemed to slow down. Corinna swung toward the left goal and released her broomstick with both hands in order to block and catch the Quaffle, which was well within her reach.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see something dark and fast moving toward her. The thought that it was a Bludger from Prewett just barely registered. She had to decide which was more important: defending the goal or dodging the Bludger. Corinna wasn't sure where the nearest Ravenclaw Beater was, but she didn't think the Bludger could be stopped in time. She took a deep breath, threw her arms up to catch the Quaffle, and braced for the impact, hoping that she wouldn't fumble the Quaffle when she was hit.

Corinna gasped in pain when the Bludger struck her from the side, colliding with her ribs. There was a sickening crunch that she recognized as the sound of bones breaking. She clutched the Quaffle desperately as she lurched to one side on her broom. Spots danced before her eyes. She had underestimated Prewett's skill with the bat. And how painful a Bludger to the ribs actually was.

"Cripes," she managed.

"Oy! Bellew!" called Sexton.

She tossed the Quaffle toward the sound of his voice as she continued to list to the right on her broom, struggling to take a breath, which was becoming more and more difficult. She was spiraling downward rather quickly, but couldn't grasp her broom handle well enough to pull up. She didn't have the strength and the wherewithal to manage that feat.

Her ears were ringing, but she could still here the sound of Amos Diggory and the roaring crowd: "Looks like Prewett's not the only one who's taken one for the team today!"

Corinna was expecting to hit the ground none too gently when a pair of arms grabbed her from beneath the shoulders. This caused her considerable pain, but even so, she imagined that it was better than crashing.

"Molly gets a bit over-zealous at times," said a firm, but friendly voice in her ear as she was lowered to the ground.

She was still seeing spots, which were in fact growing bigger, but Corinna was surprised to see the face of William Potter bent over her. The goals were undefended. Why wasn't he chasing Sexton down for the Quaffle? Had Madam Hooch stopped the match? Corinna didn't know Potter well enough to realize that he would never have let an injured second year plunge more than twenty feet to the ground, not even one from another house. He was competitive, but he just wasn't like that.

"Is she all right?" called Ambrose.

She could hear him jogging across the soggy ground; his Quidditch boots squeaked and squelched on the grass. Her team captain sounded more than a bit anxious.

"The game ..." she wheezed as her team's captain approached.

"Manfred caught the Snitch just as you got hit by the Bludger. We won," Ambrose informed her with a wide smile.

This explained the roaring of the crowd, which had yet to cease. Of course, it also meant that her little stunt had been positively pointless. She grimaced at that thought and the continuing severe discomfort, which was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"A fine match," said William to both of the younger players by way of congratulation.

Corinna watched the team captains shake hands and closed her eyes, feeling awfully sleepy and hoping that it wouldn't hurt so much after she had shut her eyes for a bit...

_The sensation of time passing in the darkness made her feel quite uncomfortable and disoriented, but the pain was gone. She grateful for that at least. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking when she had let that Bludger hit her. She should have dodged, she decided, and the goal behind her be damned. It had been completely unnecessary and hadn't profited her or the team one ruddy bit._

Slowly she became aware of odd sounds all around her, sounds of the outdoors and the forest. The noise of the crowd was gone. There were no voices, only the far off twitter of birds and the sound of mournful crickets. She shivered involuntarily and opened her eyes.

Corinna could see a dark sky above her through the interlaced branches of trees that were just beginning to lose their leaves. She blinked as she realized that this was all wrong and shivered again as she sat up. There were dry, crackling leaves beneath her and in her hair.

"Where am I?" she wondered. "How in Merlin's name did I get here? I should be on the pitch ... or in the hospital wing."

Corinna slowly clambered to her feet and checked her side for injury. The cracked or broken ribs seemed to have mysteriously mended. She chose not to ponder this as she began to survey her surroundings.

She was standing in a shadowy wood. It was sometime between sunset and nightfall, just after dusk had fallen, but before the light completely failed. She could just make out the shapes of the tall trees around her. She appeared to be situated in a small clearing.

Turning around to look behind her, Corinna started and bit back a scream. A torch flared to life, illuminating a roughly hewn stone slab that stood in the center of the clearing. At the far end of the stone stood Christoph Somerville in tattered black robes that hung loosely from his thin frame. He had lit the torch and placed it in a makeshift holder that stuck out of the ground near where he stood. Corinna gasped sharply as she realized that although he was pale and sickly, Somerville was still mortal.

"You've come. I was so certain that you wouldn't," said a heavily accented voice from among the trees.

"What choice have I?" asked Somerville with a mechanical and lifeless shrug. "If I am to avenge my master, I must do this. I must lengthen my life ... even if this is the only way left to me," he said into the darkness to his right.

As he turned his head Corinna could see hatred and desperation in his gaze ... and fear too. Somerville was afraid of whatever lurked out of sight in the trees. As it stepped forward, Corinna could understand why. It was a vampire.

It towered over Somerville, who shrank from the undead creature of darkness as it stepped into the torch light. The vampire regarded him coolly, but Corinna could see an unholy hunger glowing in its red eyes and sense its desire to feed from Somerville. But it did not attempt to take Somerville by force. It merely stood next to the slab, looking at him, and waited.

"If I am caught, I will be destroyed. This is, as you well know, quite forbidden," the vampire informed him languidly.

"Yes, but you will not be caught," said Somerville, reaching up to his throat with shaking hands and unfastening his collar.

"I could ... simply kill you," it told him, revealing its fangs in a smile.

"Yes, and the world might be a better place for it, but I don't think you will," he responded quickly and confidently. The confidence seemed very forced.

"Let us get on with it then. I don't not like to linger in the old haunts of my kind. Nostalgia does not suit those of my lineage," said the vampire.

"Of course," said Somerville.

Corinna crept closer, almost against her will, to watch as Somerville stretched out upon the stone slam, clenching his fists at his sides and staring up into the starry night sky overhead. The vampire circled him once before pausing and setting one knee on the stone next to his victim. He leaned down and further unbuttoned the black, tattered robes that covered Somerville. The pale skin of his chest and throat gleamed with sweat in the light of the torch. The vampire leaned down, pressing his body against the wizard's, and slipped his arms beneath Somerville's. He was trapped between the stone and the vampire. There could be no turning back.

She stood no more than three feet away when the vampire placed his mouth to Somerville's neck. Her heart hammered in horror as Somerville's mouth opened and he emitted a strangled cry of pain. Or was it ecstasy? She could not tell. She did not want to know.

Somerville jerked and quivered as the vampire fed upon him, drinking deep draughts of his blood. His back arched as the color began leaving his skin and a soft, familiar hiss escaped from his lips. Somerville and the vampire seemed to become one in that moment.

Corinna saw that his fists clutched handfuls of the vampire's robes, but his grip grew slack as life fled from within his body and into the vampire, who trembled with longing and desire after so many years without drinking of a vintage so fine as that which it now greedily sucked from Somerville, almost heedless of their bargain.

Then the vampire removed his mouth from the neck of his willing prey. There was a satiated, nearly glutted look on its face as it looked down at Somerville's unseeing, glazed eyes and deathly white skin. It removed one of the arms that had so easily pinned the wizard and touched its own bloodied lips. Touching that finger to Somerville's lips, it grinned unwholesomely as the newly born vampire sucked the carmine substance eagerly from his finger.

"It is done," said the vampire.

Corinna watched Somerville blink and shiver. As the bleariness left his eyes, she knew that he now looked as he would always: thin and pale, but with ruby red lips, painted with his own blood. He was no longer a mortal man nor strictly speaking a wizard. It was a vampire who lay there looking up at the stars and waiting for the pain to subside. Anything that had remained of the man who had been professor of Legilimency and Occlumency was gone forever.

Not knowing why, Corinna reached down, gently touched his hair, and wept.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this is being posted later than I intended.

H. Sibelius: Thank you for reviewing!

Joou Himeko Dah: Thanks for the review!


	52. Knowledge and wisdom

Chapter Fifty-two

Knowledge and wisdom

When Corinna came around, she found herself in the hospital wing, surrounded her friends and teammates, who had invaded the wing despite protests from Madam Pomfrey. She felt momentarily confused, but then she remembered the Bludger from the game against Gryffindor and winced. Her side ached, but she could tell that the injury had been tended. The mediwitch had probably needed only a few minutes to mend the broken bones.

"All right?" asked Olivia anxiously as Corinna sat up gingerly on the hospital bed.

"I think so," she answered with a suppressed shudder.

How could she explain about Somerville with her teammates gathered around? And what had the vision meant, if it truly were a vision?

"I've never seen anyone hit that hard by a Bludger before," commented Sexton rather appreciatively. "That was really something," he added after receiving a cross look from Parker.

"Then you weren't looking when Olivia got you with one that time," remarked Corinna with a smile.

Ambrose and Savage laughed at this, and Sexton didn't look too offended, but then, they had just beaten Gryffindor by one hundred and thirty points, giving them second place for the season. If only the Lions hadn't won such amazing victories over the other houses...

"I guess this was our blaze of glory. Too bad you missed seeing Manfred get the Snitch," said Alec, shaking his head regretfully.

"He made Pettigrew look like a complete prat," laughed Savage.

"It was a brilliant game!" interjected Olivia, who, more than ever, couldn't wait to play on the house team.

Corinna grinned and tried not to wish that she had contributed more to the win than being carried off the field.

"If Miss Bellew feels up to it, she can go, as can the rest of you," said the annoyed voice of Madam Pomfrey from over the shoulders of the Quidditch team.

"Well?" asked Sissy, who had a very proud look in her eyes.

Corinna couldn't help but notice the expectant looks in the eyes of her friends and nodded. "I think I can manage," she answered.

"Good, but be sure not to overexert yourself," Madam Pomfrey warned her as she climbed from the hospital bed.

Corinna was very tired when she returned to the Aerie with her friends. The Quidditch team, fortunately, had retreated to the kitchens to celebrate with butterbeer and all the trimmings, courtesy of the house elves. Many of the other Ravenclaw students had dispersed throughout the school with many of them going to the library to study for a bit after a few congratulatory remarks to the team. This left the common room reasonably quiet and nearly empty of students.

She collapsed on the couch, which given the ache from her previously broken ribs -- there had been four of them broken in multiple places -- seemed much more comfortable than her usual spot on the divan, which Olivia claimed so that Martin and Sophia could sit with Corinna. Sissy curled up in the chair that they all considered to be hers.

"I had a vision while I was unconscious, you know," she informed them as she leaned back against the couch.

"We suspected as much. You were muttering about ... let me see ... a dark forest and two vampires," said Sissy with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Somerville and the one who changed him. I saw it happen," said Corinna with a slight shudder.

"Really?" gasped Martin, causing her to chuckle painfully. Sometimes he could seem so comical.

"Stop that," she muttered, wincing at the pain in her ribs, which was becoming rather annoying to say the least.

"How horrible!" said Sophia with a pronounced shiver, clearly not liking the idea very much.

"Did you see anything that might be of some use to us?" asked Sissy very pragmatically. "A weakness perhaps? Or some knowledge of Somerville that might come in handy?" she probed.

"I wish I could say that I had, but ... it was nothing more than a vision of the past," she said with a soft sigh, wondering why she had had the vision at all.

Corinna also felt more than a bit guilty about the strange sort of pity she had felt for Somerville after the vampire had bitten him. This was the creature who had been terrorizing them since September! He was pure evil and had been for a very long time. Somerville had been a lieutenant to Grindelwald, she reminded herself fiercely, and that alone warrant imprisonment in Azkaban, if not worse.

"But you don't often have visions like that, do you?" remarked Martin worriedly.

"No," she replied, "but I don't get hit by a Bludger very often either."

Sophia and Olivia both looked surprised by her tone of voice, which included a note of mild sarcasm that was rarely present there.

"It's just a part of the game," said Sissy, who was completely unfazed, "but I think you handled yourself well. I don't even think you needed Potter's help."

"Thanks," said Corinna with a slight smile, although she knew that she would have probably broken her neck if someone hadn't caught her. She made a mental note to thank Potter if she ever saw him in the halls.

"Are you going to see Professor Mallaghan about your vision?" asked Sophia.

Corinna glanced at the nearest clock to find that it was only mid afternoon. Mallaghan was sure to be in his office. The only question was whether or not she wanted to tell him about everything that she had seen and the strangeness of it all. She imagined that he would understand, but she wanted to think about what she had witnessed on her own before taking the matter to her mentor.

She wanted to figure out why she had seen Somerville changed. Her instincts told her that it had to do with Martin's dreams about being bitten. He had had several of them and shared the contents of those dreams with her and the others. Those dreams were never far from her mind because she knew how easily they could, in some respects, become reality. But she could not say with certainty that this was the case.

"I think ... I'll try to see him tomorrow," she told Sophia in answer to her question.

The next morning as Corinna entered the Great Hall with her friends for the morning meal and was surprised to see Professor Mallaghan at the high table. He was seated between Flitwick and Dumbledore and chatting quite animatedly with them as he ate his breakfast. The professor of Divinations did not usually mix so freely with the rest of the staff. He had his reasons, which Corinna did not entirely understand.

Mallaghan smiled and nodded in her direction as he noticed her presence at the Ravenclaw table. She imagined that he had come looking for her, in a manner of speaking.

"I guess you really will be seeing Mallaghan today," quipped Sissy, remembering Corinna's comment from the night before.

"He probably just wanted to have a meal with the rest of the faculty. It must get lonely up in the Divinations Tower," said Corinna lamely, knowing that that couldn't be the reason at all.

"Right..." scoffed Olivia.

"Just let her eat in peace," Sophia told Sissy and Olivia with a disapproving look.

Corinna was not surprised when Professor Mallaghan stopped her after breakfast and sent her friends on without her.

"You've an awfully long face this morning, my dear," he commented, gesturing for her to follow him back to his tower sanctuary, "especially for someone who contributed to such a magnificent Quidditch victory."

"I had a vision yesterday..." she shrugged.

"Ah," he said knowingly. "Before or after your encounter with that Bludger?" Mallaghan inquired as they walked.

"Just after," she said, feeling moderately surprised that he knew about that as Mallaghan almost never attended Quidditch matches. In fact, to the best of Corinna's knowledge, he had only attended the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match that term.

She had not spotted him in the stands, but the pace of the match had been such that she had not had very much time to look for her friends, including the elderly professor.

"Professor Flitwick mentioned that the accident was rather ... stomach-churning to watch," said Joseph, choosing his words carefully.

"How did you find out about it?" she asked curiously.

"An owl from Professor Dumbledore. He is very observant for such a young wizard," Mallaghan told her with a smile.

"Not to seem impertinent, but why did he tell you about that?" she questioned.

Mallaghan laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "Because he knew that if there was anything the matter, that you would tell me more willingly than anyone else. Not an impertinent question at all."

Corinna smiled and chuckled softly. "I was planning to see you," she said, feeling a slight, residual ache in her ribs when she chuckled.

"Of course, lassie, I know that," he said, "but _some _people aren't patient like _we_ are. Heavens, no; some people need to know things right away and can't let _us_ work them out in our _own_ time as we should."

Corinna grinned at this, knowing that he was referring to the headmaster, who was probably very curious. It seemed to be common knowledge that something had happened to her after being hit by that Bludger.

"And you've had another vision, you say?" he questioned as they began the climb up the Divinations Tower.

"Yes, and it was about ... Somerville," she said, not wanting to refer to him only as _the vampire_ after what she had seen.

Mallaghan nodded thoughtfully. He had suspected that whatever she had seen had something to do with their present situation. She seemed to be a rather focused Seer, compared to those he had known or read about. He found that part of her talent to be very advantageous -- to her and to those she might seek to help with her ability.

"I thought as much, my dear," he told her.

"It isn't as though I don't know about other things... It's just that this is so important," she confessed.

"I never meant to suggest that," he chuckled kindly. "In fact I was quite impressed," Mallaghan informed her with an approving and encouraging smile.

Corinna returned the smile, but he could see a lingering seriousness in her eyes that made him wonder what 'other things' she might know. He did not imagine that many of them were especially pleasant.

"You know that you may tell me anything, don't you, Miss Bellew?" he asked her as he led her up the stairs to his office and classroom.

"Of course," she answered quickly.

"And you may also not tell me anything you do _not _wish to divulge," said Mallaghan.

She smiled softly at this and said, "I'm not very fond of keeping secrets, especially from my friends."

Corinna did not add that she wasn't very good at it either nor did she choose to say anything about the incident with Martin's uncle; she was still not certain if it could have been avoided.

Mallaghan beamed as he realized that she had included him, wittingly or no, among her friends and walked with her to the comfortable alcove by the window where they usually sat to talk and have their tea. As they had just finished breakfast, he elected to save that latter part until later as he knew that they would be there for some amount of time.

"Well, your secrets are your own, and you may keep or share them as you like," he told her, watching as she sat down gingerly, careful of her ribs.

She regarded him quizzically, remembering how strongly he had originally encouraged her to open up and wondered if he had had a change or heart or if he trusted her judgment more. She wasn't sure which the case might be.

"Thank you," said Corinna quietly.

"Quite welcome. Now, if you feel up to it, please tell me about your vision."

Despite the concerned caused by what had happened at the Quidditch game, not to mention after, Olivia felt rather happy as she sat in the library with her friends, waiting for the missing member of the quintet to return. Ravenclaw was nearly tied with Gryffindor for the House Cup after receiving numerous house points for the Quidditch victory that had put them in second place behind Gryffindor for the Quidditch Cup for the second year in a row. However, this status, not being in first place, was difficult not to attribute to Molly Prewett's Bludger, even though it had made no real difference in the actual outcome of the game.

But Olivia was proud of how Corinna had handled herself on the field. She beamed every time she thought about the comment Ambrose had made when Corinna was being taken from the field:

_"I've never seen anything like that in all my days! Even David would have thought twice about just taking a Bludger like that. No matter how close the score was. Blimey, that was just terrific," the Quidditch captain had said to her as they trudged behind the stretcher carrying Corinna._

The difference in points between the house of scarlet and the house of blue was only twenty-five, and they had the better part of three months to make up that difference and establish a lead. Olivia just knew that it could be done.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin were so far behind that they didn't even figure into the matter anymore, and as far as Slytherin was concerned, that made Olivia quite pleased too. After all the trouble Black and his gang had given them, the whole house could go to blazes in her humble opinion.

Of course, with the exception of Sophia's nearly inexplicable respect and tolerance for Professor Krohn, the other girls and Martin quite agreed with Olivia on the subject of Slytherin house, and Astrophel Black in particular.

They were all waiting for the next, inevitable confrontation with the Slytherin bully, but no one, not even absent Corinna, knew when it would come. They passed him in the corridors from time to time, and he exchanged dark looks with Sissy, who was the best at giving them, but did nothing.

That worried Sissy more than she let on, but she was quite aware that Black was a strategist, as she considered herself to be also, and surmised that he would only strike when it was most advantageous to himself and when he was least likely to be caught.

Because of those factors, Sissy had suggested that none of them should be in the corridors alone at any hour of the day and the others had whole-heartedly agreed with that. This only naturally meant that they were anxious about Corinna's return, although she had departed with Professor Mallaghan. She would doubtlessly be returning alone. Sissy was less than pleased with that idea.

"I'm going for a walk," said Sissy, closing her books and leaving her seat. It was her intention to go to the bottom of the tower and wait for Corinna.

"Can I come along?" asked Martin, which was the only thing that stopped Olivia or Sophia from volunteering.

"Have you your wand?" she asked.

"Of course," he nodded.

"Very well," Sissy agreed, motioning for him to follow her out of the library.

Sophia and Olivia just exchanged looks. Sissy almost seemed to be spoiling for a fight, not that doing so would be unlike her; it simply made them uncomfortable and a bit worried about Martin, who was still not as capable in matters of defense as they all thought, given his situation, that he ought to be.

Professor Mallaghan rubbed his chin thoughtfully as Corinna finished giving him a detailed account of what she had seen in her vision. He was more than a little impressed by the depth and richness of what she described. He did not miss the hesitance with which she divulged her own feelings and actions, despite her relative candor concerning what had happened between the older vampire and Somerville.

"Let me make us some tea. I think we could both use a cup," he said, patting her knee gently as he rose from his seat.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking positively drained.

Not for the first time was he tempted to add a little something to her tea, but he restrained himself.

"Do you know, professor, why ... why I ... I felt sorry for him?" she asked tentatively.

He looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Somerville was a strange one by all accounts. I can't imagining pitying him very much myself ... after what he's become, and I don't mean a vampire. But seeing someone, anyone, even a Dark Wizard and even willingly, go through something so horrible as that... I can imagine that it would bring out some strange emotions in anyone. You shouldn't blame yourself. Compassion is hardly a something to feel guilty about."

"But after everything that has happened..."

"I know, but I suppose visions are like dreams. Things happen in them that you can't properly explain," Mallaghan told her patiently.

"It's so silly. I wish I had never seen him... and I wish I knew more about him too," she confessed.

"Well, you've seen some rather intimate moments in his life," he shrugged, pouring the tea, "and that would make anyone curious."

Mallaghan glanced uneasily at a nearly empty earthenware jar on a shelf by the hearth. He wondered if it might be all right to try and help Corinna answer her questions. The method had never worked for him, not in sixty years of occasionally taking the stuff, the potent potion that was sealed in the jar, but Mallaghan suspected that Corinna, because of the strength of her gift, might profit by it.

"Nasty business, inducing visions," he thought to himself. "One never knows what will happen. I would hate for her to foresee her own death again, or anyone else's death for that matter. And if it didn't work, she would be terribly disappointed."

He touched the vessel gingerly and wonder if perhaps he should ask Miss Bellew and allow her to make her own decision in the matter.

"Professor, what's in that jar?" asked Corinna curiously. She had been watching him for some time.

He looked over his shoulder and said, "A potion, my dear. I was never very good with potions and the like. I only know what Reynard has told me he puts into it. Truthfully, I just smile and nod when he tells me the contents of the draught. His predecessor explained it to me in more detail, but, alas, my memory isn't what it once was."

"What's it do then?" she asked with a quizzical expression.

Mallaghan had the feeling that she already knew more than she was letting on. There was nothing wrong with that, of course.

"It supposed to induce visions in those with the talent, but it has never worked for me," he told her.

She pondered this for a moment and glanced at the tray of tea and biscuits, the former of which was growing cold. Mallaghan took her meaning and levitated the tray over to where she was sitting, following slowly behind it.

"But ... it doesn't work?" Corinna asked, looking toward the shelf as Mallaghan sat down.

"That isn't what I said," Mallaghan told her, taking a ginger newt to nibble with his tea. "I only said that it had never worked for me. I never had any visions using it, but other witches and wizards with the talent have had very interesting visions while taking the stuff," he corrected in an off-hand tone.

He was expecting her to ask if she might try it, but she didn't say anything more for a long while as she drank her tea and gazed out the window.

"Maybe she just isn't ready to have another vision yet," he mused.

"Do you think it might help me to ... to clear up what's going to happen in the immediate future or just show me something from the past? I mean, if it worked at all, that is," said Corinna hesitantly, though rather believing that it would have some effect.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

She frowned at her teacup and nodded that she understood.

"Even if I could only see the past ... I could possibly learn more about him, maybe I could somehow predict what he's going to do next," she said softly, "or I could tell Sissy and she'd figure it out. If we knew more ... we would be better prepared to face him when he comes for Martin again."

"True, true," conceded Mallaghan.

"Is it very ... dangerous?" she questioned.

"Not in my experience," he replied with a smile. She had a greater portion of Ravenclaw caution than he might have otherwise thought. Joseph found more than a bit of relief in that.

"When... I mean, do you suppose I could I try then?" she asked with a slightly more hopeful expression.

"You could do so now, if you would like," said the professor, setting his cup aside.

* * *

A/N:

H. Sibelius: Thank you!

RavenSapphire: I'm glad you liked William. Thanks for reviewing!

halfblood princess: blush Thank you!


	53. Conjunctivitus

Chapter Fifty-three

Conjunctivitus

Martin and Sissy were forced to take the long way around to the Divinations' Tower that morning as one of the main staircases had switched positions, and in an entirely unexpected manner too. The stairs now led to the Astronomy Tower. They did not seem as though they would be moving back anytime soon either, but then the stairs were all notoriously cranky in the spring, especially when it was damp. Of course, there was nothing for it except to learn alternate routes through the castle to comply with its whims and idiosyncrasies. That was one of the few disadvantages of living in a magical castle.

The two Ravenclaws had reached one of the classroom corridors, hoping to take advantage of the little used route from there to the upper levels of the castle and the winding stairs that connected to the corridor leading directly, more or less, to their destination. It was not a bad plan, because Sissy knew more about the interior of Hogwarts than any girl in her year, possibly in her entire house as the seventh year girls were not so adventurous as those who had left school the year before had been.

Martin was expecting to run into Corinna on their way to the tower as more than the usual amount of time had passed since she left with Mallaghan, but as they approached the intersection of the main corridor where several classrooms were located and the smaller hallway that led to the stairs, they heard a scuffling noise ahead of them that echoed down the corridor.

Sissy motioned for Martin to pause and moved forward very slowly and cautiously, slipping her wand from its position in her sleeve as she did so. Her heart was pounding due to the odd nature of the sound, which she could not readily identify. She was not especially afraid because it was still early in the day and bright outside. It could not be the vampire, but she intuitively felt that she ought to be careful. Martin, despite her attempted warning, was only a few paces behind her.

She had not known what to expect when she had first heard the sound, but this was certainly one of the very last things she would have anticipated seeing.

The floor in the area between the two intersecting corridors was littered with unrolled parchments, which looked more than a bit like school assignments to Sissy. She inhaled sharply when she saw Professor Knowles scrambling about on his hands and knees attempting to collect them while keeping his cane neatly in the crook of one arm while he did so. He was not having much success at the endeavor. His face was flushed and Sissy thought she could see tears of frustration forming in his cloudy eyes.

Just as he reached toward a parchment, it scooted away from him in a very unnatural fashion ... almost as though it had been summoned. It stopped just a few feet out of his reach, but how was he to know that? Knowles merely cursed quietly and continued the search, running one hand across the floor systematically as the other held his cane and the captured parchments, which were in a very disorganized state.

Sissy's eye bulged as she caught sight of Astrophel Black standing in the shadows across the way, flicking his wand about as he moved the parchments. There was a smirk of delight on his face. Sissy could hardly believe what she was seeing, although nearly anything could be believed of Black.

With a barely suppressed chuckle he waved his wand and Knowles' robes flipped over his head and face, startling the professor so that a shrill shriek escaped from his lips. He had not expected it. His cane slipped from his elbow and clattered across the floor as Black neatly summoned it too, hiding it against the farthest wall. His expression changed to one of smug satisfaction as he surveyed his handiwork.

"_Conjunctivitis_!" roared Sissy with all her might, pointing her wand at Black, who had neither the time nor presumably the skill to block the curse she sent at him, which was fueled by an anger so profound that it threatened to overwhelm her. He was lucky she didn't use something more damaging nor more permanent that the vision-obscuring curse.

Black howled in surprised terror and clawed at his eyes before fleeing down the corridor behind him. Sissy hoped that Knowles recognized the voice of his attacker. She could hear Black crashing into things and felt some small satisfaction as she dashed to her professor's side.

"Miss Howard, did you just _curse_ ... a fellow student ... again?" Professor Knowles asked in a muffled voice as she knelt beside him and began untangling his robes from his face. And they were quite tangled as he had been struggling with them in an appropriately Gryffindor fashion.

Sissy barely managed to raise an eyebrow at the loose and comfortable clothing he was wearing under the robes, which was rather Muggle in appearance.

"I might have, sir," she answered. Her hands were still shaking with rage as she righted the dark robes.

"Nicely done," he commented. "Twenty points for Ravenclaw for assisting your feeble and stupid professor who didn't even realize someone was there," he said with a wry look.

Sissy pursed her lips as she smoothed his disheveled hair and unobtrusively used her sleeve to dry his face, which was streaked with sweat and what she presumed to be tears.

"Don't say things like that. They simply aren't true," she admonished quietly, looking over his shoulder at Martin, who was watching them with an uncomfortable expression. "Gather his things. Would you?" she ordered a bit snappishly.

Martin was quick to obey nonetheless, understanding how Sissy felt about the situation. Knowles was not his favorite professor by any means, but what Black had been doing was unconscionable.

"You aren't hurt, are you, professor?" Sissy inquired.

"Only my pride ... and perhaps my hands. I believe I scraped them on the stone," he said with an annoyed expression.

"A bit..." said Sissy as he held them out for her inspection. They weren't too badly scraped, but she imagined that they were stinging quite a bit.

"Would you mind giving me a hand, Miss Howard?" he questioned as she relinquished his.

"I've ... I've got your cane, sir," stammered Martin, holding it out to Sissy, who took it from him with a cool, acknowledging nod. He could still see the anger burning in the depths of her eyes.

"Thank you, Mister Dumbledore," said Knowles as Sissy pressed the cane into the less injured of his hands and he stood up.

"Martin, could you run along and find Corinna? I want to have a word with the professor," she said, taking the parchments from the younger wizard. He had gathered them all quite quickly. She was grateful for that.

"Yes, certainly," he swiftly replied. Martin made all haste to leave them.

"I can only imagine what I would have done if you hadn't come along," said Knowles, stiffening slightly as Sissy slipped her arm into his. Wherever he was going, she intended to conduct him safely thither. "Something silly, I suspect," he answered himself with an unhappy expression.

"Your office or your quarters, sir?" she inquired, stuffing the parchments into one of her pockets to keep her wand hand free, not that she fancied she would need it, given what she had done to Black. But she always liked to be prepared.

"My quarters... I'm not in any fit state to work on those assignments now," he answered with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

Sissy guided him in the proper direction, noting that his cane was tucked into the crook of his arm again. He was trusting her completely. She felt a twinge of pride at that as her anger began to cool, though certainly a part of her mind was still plotting against Black. She imagined that he would be expelled before she could exact any meaningful sort of revenge upon him.

"You're being awfully hard on yourself, professor," she commented.

He glanced in her direction with a rather pointed expression and said, "I was just bested by what I guess to be a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy, Miss Howard. That is hardly cause for celebration."

"It wasn't a fair fight," she defended, squeezing his arm almost painfully.

He allowed it as it took his mind off his hands.

"I've never been in a _fair fight_. Perhaps you should show me one sometime," he remarked cynically.

It was because of comments like these that many students could not stand him. Sissy only naturally took it in stride. She also took his point in that instance. What prevented him from considering his besting of Moody a fair fight was unknown. Or perhaps that had merely slipped his mind given the circumstances.

"My apologies," she murmured, loosening her grip slightly.

He favored her with a mildly dismissive sneer, but said nothing more for a few moments as they walked quickly and quietly through the castle.

"If I quietly retired at the end of this term, would you still considered me lacking in the qualities that make a true Gryffindor?" he asked her.

Admittedly, Knowles felt a bit silly asking such a question of a second year student, even one so remarkable as Miss Howard, but he wanted an honest answer and thought she _might_ give him one.

She was silent for a long while, groping for the right words, before she replied. "I wouldn't think _that_, but I would still be very sorry to see you go."

Her tone spoke reams about her unhappiness with the idea. But he could let the _feelings_ of one student sway him in his decision, could he? Basing decisions on emotions was folly. Basing them on the emotions of someone else was worse, wasn't it? Knowles had been struggling with that decision for weeks, if not months, and was no closer to his ultimate answer.

"Sentimentality," he muttered absently as they climbed the stairs to the corridor where his chambers were.

Sissy only chuckled softly to herself and hoped that it would be enough to keep him at the school just a little longer.

Knowles opened his mouth to say something more on the subject when a breathless voice called out from behind them.

"Cyrus, where the devil have you been? I've been waiting for you in your office for half an hour!" shouted the voice of Professor Krohn, who had just rushed up the stairs after them.

"I had an encounter with one of your students," said Knowles ominously. There was an expression of deadly seriousness on his face as he turned toward Krohn.

And that was when Professor Knowles finally lost his temper, which was something so seldom seen that it could frighten even notoriously ill-tempered and mercurial Krohn.

"If you don't reign that boy in, I swear to ... to whatever you want me to swear to, Reynard, that I'll handle the matter _myself_ and when you find all the pieces of that little worm ... if you find them all ... there won't be enough left to fill a cauldron," he said in a thunderous voice.

Sissy, in midst of the outburst, released his arm in surprise, having never heard such a convincing threat from anyone, much less from him. She found it quite alarming. She was not alone.

Breathing heavily, Knowles flailed his arm in Sissy's direction, seeking her guidance again. His face had turned a brilliant shade of red that went well with his house colors. Sissy took his arm again after only a second's hesitation.

Krohn gaped for a moment and then asked, "Black?"

"Who else, even in _your_ house, would ... would ..." and Knowles found he couldn't say it.

"Torment and harass a blind man," supplied Sissy, knowing what he was getting at. She leveled her gaze at Krohn as she spoke.

Knowles glanced toward her with an expression of displeasure, though he was grateful for the forcefulness of her voice and her way with words, saying what he could not.

"What did he do?" asked Krohn anxiously.

"Reynard, do use your imagination," snapped Knowles. "He used a spell -- I didn't happen to hear the incantation -- to knock my papers out of my hands. I thought it was a draft. Then as I began collecting them ... I believe he moved them around while I searched. After that he tossed my robes over my face and hid my cane," he informed the Slytherin head of house. He glared toward Sissy with a sour expression as she squeezed his arm comfortingly.

Krohn was speechless. He thought the matter of respecting one's professors had been settled once and for all. The punishment Black had received had been quite severe. He had never imagined that this would come up again and so soon.

"I'll ... I'll do something about this behavior, Cyrus. You have my solemn oath," he stammered.

"You had better," said Knowles in an ominous tone that nearly made Sissy shiver despite the unemotional expression that had returned to his face.

Sissy could tell by the disbelieving and anxiety-ridden expression on Krohn's face that he understood quite well what had been done to Knowles. He had been shamed and made, for just a few moments, nearly helpless and dependent upon others. Nothing worse could be done to a man of Knowles' temperament and character. He loathed needing anything from anyone, even his friends and colleagues, if not especially.

"I'll horse whip him ..." Krohn began in a vehement tone.

"Leave the curse on him," suggested Sissy.

"Curse?" questioned the potions' professor,

"She put the Conjunctivitis Curse on him ... to stop him from doing anything more," said Knowles almost conversationally. "She is amazingly good at choosing punishments that fit the crime," he added.

Krohn weighed this in his mind and said, "I'll see to that no one removes it for three days. Then I will have a conversation with him. If he does not ... recognize the error of his ways ... I shall wait three more."

"But he's not completely blinded ..." said Sissy almost regretfully.

"That cannot be helped," said Krohn.

"It should be sufficient," said the defense instructor, who had seen the curse liberally applied during the war. He was satisfied with its general effects.

"Anything else that I might do?" questioned Krohn.

"I don't care what you do so long as I do not have another encounter like the one I had today," replied Knowles shortly.

Sissy glanced at the professor's injured hands, which were not bleeding any longer, although they looked worrisome. She hated to ask anything of Krohn. It went against the grain despite the fact that he had helped Sophia earlier in the term. She also did not wish to cause her professor any more embarrassment than he had already suffered, but still ... the scrapes needed attending.

"Professor, would you mind ..." she said awkwardly, turning Professor Knowles's arm so that the injured palm was in plain view. He could not close it before Krohn saw the minor injury that had been done to his hand.

"Deuced girl," he snarled at Sissy, though there was no venom in Cyrus' words, only mild exasperation.

"Could you put something on his hands so that they would heal faster or not hurt?" she asked awkwardly.

"Only too easy," Krohn assured her, taking the professor's hand from her.

"Reynard ... it's nothing," said Knowles with a look of irritation as the strong potions' master forced his hand open.

"Everything's nothing until it gets infected," he muttered with a sharp look at Knowles. "I have just the thing..." he said, rummaging around in one of his pockets.

"You carry potions in your pockets, Reynard?" asked Knowles with a look of disgust that was typical of most Gryffindors when potions of any kind were mentioned.

Sissy watched curiously as he removed a very small bottle of wound-cleaning potion from one of his many pockets. A bit of steam escaped when he opened it. Sissy thought about warning Knowles that it was going to sting.

"Always prepared," said Krohn, pouring a few droplets onto the scrapes. Knowles hissed sharply as the potion smoked and did in fact sting his injured hand. "The other one, if you please," he said.

Knowles held out his hand grudgingly and said, "I _hope_ you aren't enjoying this, Reynard. One would hate to think that you were displaying your sadistic tendencies in front of a student."

For a moment Sissy thought that Krohn looked hurt by this accusation. Then he sneered slightly and glanced at her.

"I do not think Miss Howard would be surprised," he commented dryly.

Sissy blushed ever-so-slightly as she thought of the note he had intercepted earlier that spring. She tried to look prim and unbothered despite the color in her cheeks.

Knowles just blinked placidly and withdrew his still smoking hand from Reynard's, obviously not sure what to make of his colleague's comment. He imagined that it referred to the punishment he had doled out in regards to Miss Howard and her friends fighting with his students. Instead of feeling displeased by those actions, he now felt rather proud of her for her willingness to take on the older student, who was obviously nothing more than a feckless thug.

"Please be certain not to pick at them, Cyrus, or you'll need another application of potion," Krohn informed him impassively.

"I'll try to restrain myself."

"Do you still wish to look over those papers?"

"Miss Howard, do you happen to have ..."

"Right here," she said, swiftly removing the parchments from her pocket. They were rumpled and disorganized but otherwise unharmed.

Krohn took them from her and reluctantly said, "Five points for Ravenclaw."

He did not add the justification, but mentally he attributed it to her helping his colleague to save face.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Miss Howard, I believe it is time for you to be on your way. I have some business with Professor Krohn, and I imagine that Mister Dumbledore is growing quite concerned," the defense instructor told her a bit sternly.

Sissy wanted to argue the point that Martin was hardly her keeper, but she knew what he was getting at. It was time for her to go. She had seen him safely to his rooms, which were just down the corridor, and her duty was done.

She glanced at Krohn and wished that he were not standing there, looking at her with his cool, impassive gaze. There was so much she wanted to say to Knowles, who still looked worse for wear and seemed melancholic, though he was struggling to hide it. She wanted to cheer him up somehow.

"Of course, sir," she answered succinctly.

Then Knowles did something unexpected.

He, knowing quite well where she was standing, reached toward her and squeezed her shoulder and said, "And if you see that wretched little miscreant, do give him hell for me, would you?"

"Naturally," she agreed with a wide smile.

Sissy did not notice the look Krohn gave her as she walked away, but she did hear his comment: "You know she might very well kill Black."

"Oh, I believe she would stop short of that, Reynard," was Professor Knowles' bored and unconcerned reply.

* * *

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone!

H. Sibelius: No, I'm not a fan of Les Miserables. Thank you for reviewing!

halfblood princess: I wouldn't mind trying to potion either. Thanks for the review!


	54. Mind’s eye

Chapter Fifty-four

Mind's eye

Watching the professor of Divinations prepare the vision-inducing draught was quite fascinating to Corinna. Professor Mallaghan had insisted that his skills in the area of potion-making were limited, but she suspected that he was being modest. He seemed quite skillful as he measured out a few drops of the potion and mixed them with hot water and a pinch of salt in a teacup. She imagined that she would muff the procedure and blow the entire tower to smithereens if she did it. But then, in actuality, the draught was probably not explosive.

"We should let it sit and cool for a few moments," he told her, placing the cup on the table by her chair.

The steam that wafted up smelled of exotic spices and other unfamiliar elements. A lot of it would have made her feel quite drowsy, Corinna imagined as she inhaled the scent, which was quite pleasant and almost sweet. This was especially reassuring as she would be drinking the concoction when it had cooled sufficiently.

Professor Mallaghan settled into his comfortable chair and watched Corinna as she stared at the steaming cup.

"You can still change your mind, my dear," he said gently. "I won't be disappointed," he assured her.

"I have to do this," she said with quiet conviction.

"I understand," Mallaghan told her, nodding as he recognized that tone of voice.

His son had spoken that way of his mission to warn the people of Sedan. She was much younger, but she had the same unassuming inner strength as Thomas had possessed.

"You may drink it now if it isn't too warm for you," he informed Corinna gently.

"What will happen?" she asked, lifting the cup.

"If it works? I don't actually know," he said with a sheepish look.

Corinna took a deep breath before putting the cup to her lips and drinking. The taste of the liquid was surprisingly bitter as she swallowed it. She hoped that they both knew what they were doing. When she had drained the cup, she set it aside and looked at Mallaghan, waiting for it to take effect.

"Well?" he asked her curiously.

She frowned, not feeling any different, except for the slightly sour, not quite metallic taste in her mouth.

"I don't think it worked," she said.

"Give it a moment, lass. You mustn't be too impatient with such things," he said in an encouraging tone as he watched her carefully for any reaction.

Corinna was a bit disappointed as she had felt certain that the draught would work on her. She knew that she wasn't always right about such things and had been wrong about a goodly number of things, especially lately. Maybe this was just one more. She tried to be patient, but it wasn't easy for her. She could only imagine what it would be like for Olivia or Sissy if they tried something like this. Neither girl had anything remotely resembling patience.

Then a peculiar sleepiness began to steal over her. The sensation was like someone pulling up the covers and passing a hand over her eyes, closing them and darkening the world around her. It was quite extraordinary, though just a bit frightening too.

"It's working," she thought as the darkness engulfed her.

_Corinna was disoriented for a moment as the blackness receded and left her standing in a familiar corridor of the castle. She was somewhere between the hospital wing and a few of the professor's offices. She glanced out a nearby window to find that it was dark outside._

_The sound of quick, echoing footsteps behind her caused Corinna to start and turn. She gasped aloud when she saw Somerville there, striding purposefully toward her with a handkerchief to his nose and an enraged look on his face. His eyes glittered with great ire. His anger was nearly tangible. It seemed to ripple out in waves all around him, cloaking him in what Corinna could only describe as a profound and terrible darkness. She had never seen him like this before._

_Then she blinked and realized that Somerville was also quite young and wearing an embroidered dressing gown over pale blue pajamas. The way he carried himself as he marched purposefully down the corridor told her that he was a professor, not a student, although perhaps he had not held his position very long. She marked his age at about twenty-five, younger than he had seemed in her first vision of him, but not very much so._

_She followed quickly after Somerville and watched him take the blood-splattered hankie from his nose. He swiftly put it back as his nose was still bleeding. She wondered if he had been in a fight._

_"Damn Dumbledore to hell," he muttered through his teeth in seething rage._

_This surprised Corinna a great deal as she struggled to keep up with his long strides, which were taking them to the hospital wing. What quarrel did he have with the Transfigurations' professor? Had they dueled or something?_

_When they reached the hospital wing, Somerville opened the door with his free hand and walked inside without slowing down. Corinna was surprised that the doors did not open for him the way that they sometimes did for others, including Professor Dumbledore._

_He halted when he reached the center of the empty ward, removed the handkerchief from his face, and bellowed, "Rosie!"_

_Corinna imagined that he was referring to the mediwitch who had run the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey, but then she remembered that Madam Plummer, whose first name had certainly not been Rosie, had not been so old when she retired. This was the mediwitch before her that Somerville called for._

_A slender witch, possibly in her forties, with lovely nut brown hair that hung loosely just past her shoulders emerged from the corridor that led to the mediwitch's office. She looked a bit put out, possibly by Somerville's shout. Corinna couldn't help but notice that she was rather pretty and not precisely matronly._

_"Chris, what's the matter?" she questioned._

_Corinna raised an eyebrow at her familiar form of address. Here was someone who apparently knew Somerville and quite well at that! She could not help but notice that Rosie had an accent similar to Professor Mallaghan's, although her Irish brogue was less muted._

_He held up the handkerchief and stated simply, "I had a little accident. Could you give me something to stanch the bleeding? It's becoming a bit worrisome, and I can't stop it."_

_"You weren't..." she began to ask anxiously._

_Somerville's lip curled into a slight sneer as he said, "I wasn't practicing in my usual fashion. I just happened to find out that I have a colleague who is very skilled in Occlumency. He taught me an unnecessarily painful lesson, if you must know, Rosie."_

_"I should say that it serves you right, but I don't like taking sides in these matters," she told him, pursing her lips. "Come sit down while I get something to fix you up," she added less harshly._

_"Thank you, Rosie," he said, holding the hankie to his nose again as the mediwitch dashed away to get something to help him clot._

_Corinna felt puzzled as she followed Somerville to the nearest hospital bed where he sat down. If she understood everything properly, he had attempted to Legilimence Professor Dumbledore -- to what purpose was unclear -- and the elder professor had responded by repulsing Somerville in such a fashion as it had given him a severe bloody nose. Was this what stood between the two of them? Dumbledore had hurt the other professor's pride, and Somerville had carried that vendetta for more than half a century?_

_She thought that it was very possible._

_Rosie returned swiftly with a cup of some horribly noxious-smelling potion that Christoph downed without question._

_"Tastes as foul as it smells," he commented, returning the cup to the middle-aged mediwitch._

_"Tell that to the one who made it," said Rosie wryly._

_"I don't think I will. Snape would have my guts for ingredients if I insulted one of his brews," said Somerville with a slight sneer._

_"Indeed," she chuckled, "and Modestus would complain about the quality too."_

_Somerville pressed the hankie to his nose and gave it an approving look. The bleeding had stopped._

_"Do you want to tell me exactly what happened?" questioned Rosie with a compassionate look, sitting down next to him on the hospital bed._

_"I was under the impression that I already had," he stated, growing more aloof. Something in his slight accent grew thicker as he spoke._

_Corinna watched curiously as Rosie slipped her arm around the young professor's shoulders. There was a flicker of some soft expression in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the customary hardness that remained there._

_"Chris, do me this one favor: don't push yourself as you have been. It isn't good for you," the mediwitch told him._

_"Madam, it is no concern of yours," he said simply, shrugging off her arm as he stood._

_She did not look offended, only sad, as she rose as well._

_"Then go to bed, professor, and try to get some rest. You appear to be in need of it," she instructed calmly._

_Somerville looked at her for a moment before nodding in silent agreement and walking out of the ward._

_Corinna began to follow him, but something stopped her in her tracks. She turned and looked toward the corridor that led to the office and chambers of the school mediwitch. Someone was standing there. A wizard in pajamas and a robe emerged from the shadows._

_He was very short, especially compared to the mediwitch, and had sandy brown hair that was beginning to thin on top. The wizard was in his middling years, probably closer to sixty than to fifty, but rather trim, though he shuffled his feet a bit as he walked toward Rosie._

_Corinna blinked as she realized that he looked an awfully lot like Professor Mallaghan._

_"Rosie, my dear, don't trouble yourself about young Somerville. He's just got a bit of growing up to do. That's all," he told her, holding out his arms to her._

_She smiled as she melted into his embrace and said, "I know you're right, Joseph, but I ... I can't help but to worry."_

_Corinna could hardly believe it! Rosie appeared to be Mallaghan's wife. She knew that he had been married, but she had never thought about what the witch in question would have looked like or any of that. She was rather surprised, not just because of how lovely Rosie was, but because she was the school mediwitch too. It was difficult to believe that Mallaghan would have married someone like her. Despite her beauty, she seemed so grounded and so ordinary compared to the professor._

_"I know, love, but you can worry in bed just as well as here," he said, coaxing her toward out of the ward and toward their rooms and giving her a kiss on the cheek._

_The hospital wing melted, but Corinna did not find herself back in the Divinations tower, which unnerved her more than words could express. She had expected the vision to end. It did not._

_She found herself standing outside the castle where a throng of people, many of whom she recognized as professors, were standing together with downcast expressions on their faces. Armando Dippet, looking very much younger than when she had last seen him, was in the crowd along with Professor Dumbledore, whose auburn beard was neatly trimmed, and Professor Mallaghan, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. Many of the other professors were unfamiliar to Corinna._

_"That's the end of him then," said a tall and reedy wizard in gauzy gray robes and lop-sided hat. He shook his head ruefully._

_"We can't simply stop searching, headmaster," said Professor Mallaghan with concern shining in his eyes. "That poor boy is probably still out there, needing our help, needing us to find him..."_

_"Joseph, he's been missing for eight days now," said the headmaster, whose name Corinna did not know. He had held the position for a relatively short time. "If the wolves haven't had at him by now, I would be very much surprised."_

_"He's probably fallen into a bog," said Professor Binns, adjusting his spectacles and seeming nonchalant about the whole affair._

_"It's a pity we couldn't have done more ..." said Dippet._

_Dumbledore was strangely silent and had his hands clasped behind him as the others argued. He hardly even seemed to be paying attention._

_The headmaster patted shorter Dippet's shoulder and said, "We all did what we could. It's a great shame to lose someone so young and full of promise as Somerville, but he was driven mad by his own devices. Let that be a lesson to the rest of us."_

_Corinna couldn't help but notice that his gaze strayed toward Dumbledore as he spoke._

_"Then the matter is closed?" asked Binns._

_"Yes," said the headmaster._

_They began to disperse, walking from the grounds back to the castle, but as Dumbledore passed by Corinna, she heard him murmur, "I don't believe it really is."_

_Mallaghan lagged behind with a crestfallen demeanor. His shuffling steps were loath to carry him back to the castle. Then Corinna heard someone call out to him._

_"Joseph!"_

_He looked up instantly, but couldn't quite manage a smile as the spring breeze ruffled thinning his hair._

_"Rosie," Mallaghan yelled back to his wife, who was standing on the stairs, waiting for him with a gray-green shawl about her shoulders._

_He trudged along, but she was not content to wait and sprang down the stairs to meet him._

_"What's happened?" she asked anxiously._

_"The search has been called off. Somerville ... they've decided, is dead," he informed her. "I'm sorry, my dear. I know how much he reminded you..."_

_"No," she interrupted, "don't say it."_

_Corinna could see tears in the older woman's eyes. She blinked them away rapidly and inclined her chin._

_Mallaghan nodded and put an arm around her waist. He shook his head wearily and said something incomprehensible in Gaelic._

_"God rest his soul," Rosie whispered, leaning her head against her husband's as they returned to the castle._

_The castle grounds flew away from Corinna in a rush of early-spring green and muted blue, nearly taking her breath with it as the colors flew by her. As everything halted again, her stomach lurched and she was afraid that she would be ill. The uncomfortable feeling quickly passed as shapes and forms coalesced around her and grew solid and tangible again._

_Corinna had the immediate sense that she was no longer at Hogwarts nor anywhere nearby. She was in a dungeon that was very different from those at the school. The room had been converted from what she surmised to be a torture chamber -- there were still chains on the walls and dark splotches on the stone that looked to be very old blood -- to meeting room, complete with a large oaken table and many chairs. An especially fine chair was at the head of this table._

_The torchlight guttered slightly as she noticed a man seated there, reading over parchments. He lifted his face as the light flickered. Corinna did not recognize him and drew closer to see him better in the relatively dim light. This was certainly a poor place in which to read. As she stepped nearer Corinna thought for a moment that she heard the ominous sound of thunder outside._

_The wizard half-rose from his chair with an annoyed look on his rather rectangular face, which was etched with heavy lines of what she took to be worry. His eyes were small and a very pale blue, though they were bloodshot as well. He rubbed them before sitting down again and brushing his gray hair from his furrowed brow. There was something curiously sinister about the man, who was dressed in dusty wizard's robes that had been rather fine some time in the not so distant past._

_"Took you long enough," he said in heavy accent._

_Corinna suspected that he was German as he sounded a bit like Professor Krohn._

_"They put up a fight," said a familiar voice from behind her._

_Corinna started and turned to find Somerville, much older and with a more worldly and callous look in his eyes, standing there with a sack slung over his shoulder._

_"You have them before Christmas, my lord; isn't that all that matters?" asked Somerville, adjusting his burden just a bit._

_Corinna thought that she could smell something odd and very unpleasant coming from the sack._

_The wizard at the table made a sweeping gesture and said, "Of course, my dear Christoph. Those were my orders."_

_Somerville smiled, and it was a very unwholesome smile, as he put the sack down and opened it. The odor that emanated from it made Corinna want to gag. It was the scent of blood and the beginning of decay. She shrank away from Somerville and his parcel as much as she possibly could and covered her nose and mouth with her hands. She was terribly afraid to know what was in that sack, but she knew she was going to find out despite that. Both Somerville and his confederate seemed unbothered._

_"The first of the traitors," said Somerville, reaching into the heavy canvas bag._

_He removed a severed head, holding it up by its long and dingy brown hair so that the wizard could see its face clearly. Corinna cringed and tried to turn away, but she could not._

_"Michael thought he could outwit me. Foolish boy," chuckled the elder wizard as he looked into the unseeing eyes. "Have you his hands as well? I have a special purpose for them," he said rather glibly._

_"I have them all. Three pair, my lord," said Somerville, placing the head upon the table, facing the other man, "although I cannot readily say which belonged to whom, except for the witch's hands, of course. They are quite delicate, and she wore a dainty ring upon her right hand."_

_"No matter," he replied. "I'm not so fussy as all that, now am I, Christoph?"_

_"Of course not," said Somerville with a bit of a smile._

_Corinna couldn't take her eyes from the head that sat tilted slightly to one side on the table. The sight was too gruesome and horrible, and worse still, she thought she saw something familiar in its long face and heavy features, though she could not say precisely what._

_"See that the hands are packaged up properly, by twos as best you may, and sent to that filthy coward on Christmas morning," he ordered Somerville briskly. Then he sighed, almost as though he could not smell the decaying flesh on the table before him. "If only I could see his face..."_

_"That, I cannot arrange, my lord," said Somerville ruefully._

_"A shame. But..."_

_"Yes?" asked Somerville enthusiastically. He seemed quite eager to please the other wizard._

_"Be sure to apply a deadly poison the wrappings of these gifts. It gives me little satisfaction or pleasure, but I find his line troublesome. Best to cleanse them all from the earth and be done with the matter in its entirety," he instructed nonchalantly._

_"As you say," said Somerville with a slight bow._

_He reached to take the head from the table, but he was halted by a gesture from the other wizard._

_"Leave Michael. I wish to have a chat with him."_

_Somerville nodded, took the sack up again, and started toward the stairs at the far side of the room._

_"Herr Grindelwald, what time shall dinner be served tonight?" he inquired._

_"Eight o'clock, if you please, Christoph," he replied._

_Corinna's eyes bulged as she realized that the man at the table was one other than Josef Wilhelm von Grindelwald, the most notorious Dark Wizard of the age._

_She let out a little shriek before she was swallowed by darkness._

Corinna felt as though she were lost in that darkness for the longest time before something began to draw her out of it again. Something soft and damp gently touched her forehead. This was followed nearly instantaneously by the heavy feeling of something wrapped around her, holding her still and preventing her from moving. Then she heard a quiet, garbled voice in her ear, hushing her. The moist object touched her cheeks, then her nose, and finally her chin before starting the pattern over again. She was certain that is was a damp cloth.

She felt very sick and turned her head to the side, burrowing toward the warm, comforting object from whence the voice came. She didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to see anymore after what she had witnessed. She only wanted the darkness and the comforting presence to remain.

"Can you hear me, my dear?" asked a strained and anxious voice, leaving behind Gaelic for English.

She squeaked softly, unable to formulate a proper sound. The moist cloth disappeared and was replaced by trembling fingers.

"You've had a bad time of it, I'm sure, but it's all over now," said Professor Mallaghan in response.

Corinna tried to indicate that she understood, but couldn't find a way in which to do so effectively.

Mallaghan rocked her gently in his arms and hummed a quiet tune that often faltered as he tried to soothe her. He was at a loss as to what to do for her, other than taking her to Madam Pomfrey and facing the consequences, which he imagined would not profit any of them in the long run.

Something about his actions made Corinna think about Rosie, instead of the severed head on Grindelwald's table, which caused her to relax a bit. She realized that during the months in which she had known Joseph, she had never questioned where his gentle demeanor and compassionate manner had come from. Now she realized that it was probably from being the husband of a mediwitch.

"Can you open your eyes for me yet, my dear?" he asked cautiously, rubbing his thumb over her eyelids to coax them open. "For me, mavourneen?" he questioned.

"Can't. Don't want to see anymore," she whimpered.

"There, there ..." he said, relieved that she had spoken at all. "You can lie still and quiet for a bit if you want, lassie," Joseph assured her.

She felt the damp cloth dab at her forehead again and did as he suggested to her, waiting for the overwhelming sense of horror to leave her. It was doing so slowly, bit by bit, though Corinna was nearly certain that it would never go away entirely.

"Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" he asked her after a moment.

"No..." she answered quietly.

"Sweet Merlin, I never should have done this to her," said Joseph in a soft voice, brushing her hair away from her face.

"My choice," she mumbled.

He wanted to say something about the courage of that choice, but at that moment Corinna managed to lift her eyelids and look up at him. Joseph smiled and held her closer, remembering how it had been with his son when he was only a bit older than she was. She blinked against the strong light coming from the window, but did not close her eyes again.

"It was my choice," she stated again, but in a stronger voice. She was finally coming out of it.

Everything was blurry for a few minutes until her eyes adjusted to the light again. She felt dizzy and still a bit disoriented, but she thought that those effects might have been because of the draught as much as the visions it induced. She did not think she would be trying that again in the near future, if ever again.

Looking up at Joseph, who had a patient and comforting smile on his face, she could clearly tell by the look in his eyes that he had been terribly worried. He hugged her again and encouraged her to sit up. Corinna felt weak as she did so, noticing that her chair had been inexpertly transfigured into something like a couch.

"All right now, my dear?" he asked her.

"I don't feel very well..." she admitted quietly, leaning back against the cushions of the couch and staring up at the high ceiling.

"That's to be expected," Joseph told her. "It will pass," he said in a reassuring tone.

"Tell me about Rosie, professor," she asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

She wanted to hear something nice. She wanted him to tell her how they met and fell in love and lived happily-ever ... at least for a time. Anything that would drive the horror that she had witnessed from her mind.

Mallaghan smiled and asked, "Did you see my Rosie in your vision, my dear?"

"Yes," she replied, allowing her lips to twitch upward slightly, though she could not manage to smile.

"Aye, she was lovely," said Joseph, taking a deep breath as though remembering and trying to organize his thoughts at once, "and very dear to me. I had known her since we were children together in Ireland. She was my best friend, and I missed her terribly when I came to school. We only shared two years in school together, you know, but we made the most of them. I don't believe that Professor Binns ever quite recovered from something of things we..."

He paused and blushed ever-so-slightly and said, "But playing pranks on one's professors is quite wrong. We should never have put Exploding Snap cards in his shoes ... nor in his desk ... nor in his hat."

Corinna looked at him in surprise. She could never have imagined Mallaghan getting into any sort of trouble.

"She was a Gryffindor. She made me do it," he said with a slightly childish smile.

Corinna giggled and realized that she wasn't shaking any longer. She felt much better just listening to Joseph. She nodded for him to go on.

"I didn't see her again for nearly four years after I left school, but we wrote letters to each other. I was so jealous whenever she would write about boys that were after her hand, but she never took any of them seriously. I turned down a teaching position in America so that I could stay here and visit her in Hogsmeade during her seventh year. Rosie and I used to run through the fields together..." he reminisced with a soft sigh.

"Not a single regret," said Joseph, who had been asked to join the faculty at the wizarding school in Salem.

"Really?" asked Corinna.

"Truly, my dear. Nothing better ever happened to me in my life than marrying Rosie McCann," he told her, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve. "We were happy together for the longest time."

Corinna felt slight uneasy as she asked, "What happened to her, sir?"

"She went out into to Muggle London one day ... just before the start of the term in 1912 ... and she was rundown by a Muggle streetcar," he explained. "I think she had gone out to find a new pair of slippers for me," Joseph added.

"I'm sorry," said Corinna.

"We were married for more than fifty years. I don't suppose I had a right to ask for longer than that," he said with a sad smile. "Are you feeling any better, lassie?" he asked Corinna.

"Much better," she nodded.

"Can you tell me anything about what you saw ... other than my Rosie? Or is it still too soon?" he asked carefully.

Corinna took a deep breath and told him simply, "I saw Grindelwald."

* * *

A/N: 

hsibelius: Thank you for reviewing!

RavenSapphire: Thanks for the review!


	55. Familiarity

Chapter Fifty-five

Familiarity

Martin and Sissy were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of going to look for Corinna within the confines of the Divinations' Tower when Corinna emerged from around a corner and they spotted her. Martin knew something was off immediately by her slow and shuffling gait, which reminded him of the professor she had just been to see.

"Corinna, what's been keeping you?" asked Sissy, who also noticed that something was amiss with her friend. If there was an impatient edge to her voice, it was because of what Black had done earlier. She was still more than a bit peeved and intending to make certain Black knew it ... and as soon as possible too.

"Visions..." she answered in a low voice.

"Really?" asked Martin, raising his eyebrows. "More of them?"

"Several, actually," Corinna replied with a certain false nonchalance that made her voice somewhat shrill and strained.

Mallaghan had not wanted her to go, for fear that she was more disturbed or more affected by the experience than she would let on, but he would not keep her against her will and asked only that she return to her own tower and rest.

"They must have been unpleasant," observed Sissy.

"Not all of them..." said Corinna, thinking of Professor Mallaghan and Rosie. 

Those visions had been colored by other emotions, including Somerville's anger and the overwhelming sadness caused by his disappearance, but seeing them together had made Corinna feel happy. She was glad to see that Joseph had once had someone who cared deeply for him and about whom he felt the same.

"Just some?" questioned Martin.

"One," she said, trying not to think of it. She shivered slightly nevertheless.

Martin and Sissy exchanged a look of concern.

"Olivia and Sophia are probably waiting for us back at the Aerie. It's been some time since we left them in the library to find you," said Sissy, taking Corinna by the arm, and adding, "and we shouldn't keep them waiting. They will be quite worried enough as it is."

Olivia and Sophia were waiting in the common room, but they weren't worried. In fact Olivia was giggling to herself while Sophia was struggling to maintain a stern expression, and failing miserably. Sissy eyed them with a peculiar expression as Martin and she sat down and Corinna curled up on the divan, looking quite exhausted and more than a bit sickly.

"You won't believe what we saw!" chortled Olivia, leaning forward in her seat and holding her stomach. She had been laughing for a very long time.

"What did you see?" asked Martin, who was seated next to Sophia on the couch in front of the hearth.

"Astrophel Black ... with Flint and Bulstrode leading him along by the hand ... and with scratches all over his face!" laughed Olivia. "It looked like he had been mauled by a pygmy hyppogriff!"

Sissy preened a little at this description, though the scratches, she knew, had been caused by the Slytherin's own fingernails.

"Someone had got him with the Conjunctivitis Curse," added Sophia as she had been the one to figure this out.

"I bet it was someone in his own house this time. Nasty little prat," said Olivia.

"Erm..." said Martin indistinctively.

Sophia raised her eyebrows and looked at Sissy, which was an only natural reaction considering the situation.

"You didn't!" she exclaimed, taking note of the cat-who-ate-the-canary expression on Sissy's face, which was quickly replaced by one of mock-innocence.

"Sissy!" Olivia hissed in shock.

"I had no choice really. That curse was the very first one that I could think of, given the ... situation," she said in a very calm and neutral tone.

"Situation?" prompted Corinna from the divan.

There was an unmistakable flash of ire in Sissy's eyes as she answered that prompting.

"He was harassing Professor Knowles in a most ungentlemanly and barbaric fashion," she said coolly, betraying none of the emotion that she felt.

"Black scattered some parchments he was carrying and was moving them around so that he couldn't find them. Then ... he got the professor tangled up in his own robes and took his cane," Martin explained with a very grim expression.

Sophia was rather impressed by that description of the incident. Most boys Martin's age would have found it quite funny. But Martin was obviously much better than them.

"Black got what he deserved," said Olivia with a nod.

"Krohn is going to keep the curse on him for a few days as punishment," said Sissy.

Sophia's eyes widened slightly at this. It surprised her, not that she thought it was too harsh of a punishment, not by any means. She simply wasn't certain that Krohn would be willing to use such severe measures on his own students. She would never have openly charged him with favoritism, but sometimes she had cause to wonder, although not in the matter of Astrophel Black, generally speaking. Sophia imagined that Krohn knew what sort Black was and acted according. Nevertheless ... leaving a curse on a student?

"Good," said Corinna.

"Right! That ruddy idiot ought to know better by now," said Olivia enthusiastically.

"I'll see that he does," said Sissy in a steely voice.

Sophia happened to notice that she had one hand in the sleeve where she normally kept her wand. She didn't need any special talent to know that this was going to mean trouble for all of them somehow.

The following day was rather strenuous for Corinna as her mind inadvertently wandered back to her visions, especially the one that had included Grindelwald in all of his decadent malevolence, making it difficult for her to concentrate on her schoolwork. As luck would have, it was a Monday, which meant double Potions class with the Hufflepuffs. It could have been worse, of course, as they didn't have to keep a constant eye on their fellow students and rarely had to duck under the tables because of mischief. But this was not Corinna's best subject by any mean nor was she well liked by its instructor as she had already established a reputation for day-dreaming in his class the year before.

That particular Monday afternoon the second years were preparing a Scintillating Solution, which supposedly could make very dull objects or person vastly more interesting, although it was quite a challenge for students to make as it required precision timing and was known to explode more frequently than the average draught prepared during that year.

Corinna and Sophia were working together, but with separate cauldrons as Krohn appreciated individual effort more than most of his colleagues and was enamored with the old expression 'too many cooks spoil the soup.' Because of their disparate skill levels, Sophia and Corinna often paired-up on the more difficult potions so that Sophia could provide her friend with a bit of assistance from time to time. They had in that way avoided many, many mishaps and saved their house incalculable points.

What happened that afternoon could best be explained by the fact that Corinna was absent-mindedly adding ingredients, without any supervision, as Sophia was checking her textbook to see how fine the flowering narcissus stems needed to be chopped for the potion. Was three-quarters of an inch sufficient or were quarter inch sections better?

The potions' master looked up from his desk where he was reviewing an article in _The Journal of Experimental Potions_ just in time to see Miss Bellew drop an unskinned shrivelfig into her cauldron as she gazed off into the distance.

He leapt up from his seat, dropping the journal and shouting something he usually reserved for his Gryffindor students: "Everyone, down! Now!"

The Hufflepuffs were quick to obey without question, ducking underneath their tables and shielding their heads with their arms -- they had had class with the Slytherins the year before. But the Ravenclaws stared at him for a moment, trying to determine the cause of his outburst and their motive for complying with his request before deciding that something was probably going to explode and following the Hufflepuffs' lead.

And then there was Corinna, who simply stood there, blinking dazedly at Krohn, who had removed his wand from where ever he had been keeping it lately, and was striding purposefully ... toward her ... for reasons Corinna could not quite figure out ... until she looking down at the ominously bubbling cauldron on the table in front of her.

"Get out of the way!" Krohn bellowed at her, raising his wand to take care of the cauldron, which was on the verge of exploding at that moment.

Corinna stumbled back several steps as he vanished the potion. A few stray droplets fell on the desk where they sizzled, burning deep gouges out of the wood. She looked up at Krohn, waiting for another sort of explosion, that of his temper, which she knew was sure to come. His nostrils flared as he glowered at her, slipping his wand into a pocket as he did so.

"What were you thinking? _Were_ you thinking?" he asked her in an acerbic tone, towering over her menacingly.

Corinna paled as she looked at him. The cause was not his anger, which did frighten her a bit, but rather recognition. She knew at that moment whom that severed head on Grindelwald's table had reminded her of, why it had seemed so familiar. It had borne a striking resemblance to Professor Krohn. She suddenly found that she couldn't stop shaking as she looked up at him.

He scowled down at her and asked, "Well, Miss Bellew? Explain yourself."

Given the situation, Corinna did the only thing she could do; she ducked underneath the table behind her and covered her eyes with her hands, attempting in vain to will away the memory of what she had witnessed.

Krohn flushed crimson as he realized that all of his students were staring at him. He glanced under the laboratory table at trembling Miss Bellew and tried to think of something appropriate to say.

"You silly little half-wit, come out from there this instant!" he told her in a very sharp tone.

Corinna cringed, but avoided looking up at the professor as she continued to try to clear her mind of the gruesome image, which she had not imparted to her friends. She wanted to deny ever seeing it, but that was quite impossible, especially now.

Of course, Corinna's friends were watching this display, and more than one of them took exception to Krohn's characterization of her as a half-wit. Sophia might have been content to give him a disapproving look and Sissy held her tongue as well, though her eyes flashed with anger, but Olivia was not cut from the same cloth as those two.

"You leave her alone!" yelled Olivia as Professor Krohn reached under the table to drag Corinna out.

She pushed past Sophia and seized the back of his robes, obviously meaning to pull him away from her friend. The potions' professor was a very large and imposing wizard, but this did not matter one whit to Olivia, whose temper was not unlike Krohn's on her better days. None of the other students, for various and sundry reasons, would have ever dared to attempt this.

"Get a hold of yourself, Miss Scarrow!" he barked at her, swatting Olivia away with one hand and yanking his robes from her grasp with the other. "Have you _both_ gone stark-raving mad?" Krohn snapped in an incensed and incredulous tone.

Olivia was going to call him a brute and horrible a bully, but Sissy, who along with Sophia rather fancied that she knew better because of how Krohn had behaved on previous occasions, including the one just the day before involving Professor Knowles, grabbed Olivia by both arms and pulled her away with a very stern look.

This left the professor free to fix the other problem: cowering Corinna, who still would not open her eyes nor leave her position beneath the table. She could not bear to look at Krohn, knowing that the wizard Somerville had murdered was somehow related to him. She vaguely remembered a comment someone had made in passing, possibly Martin, about how much of the professor's family had been killed during the Grindelwald conflict, the horror of which she at long last understood.

Krohn glanced at the students watching him for a moment and considered ordering them out, but decided after some hesitation that removing Bellew would be simpler. He lifted the table by its edges and shoved it away from both the cringing girl and himself. She shuddered as it squeaked loudly upon the stone.

"Get up," he ordered, reaching down and grasping her by the collar of her robes to haul her to her feet. "I've had quite enough of this nonsense. You are to report to Madam Pomfrey and God help you if there isn't anything seriously the matter with you," he added, thrusting her toward Olivia. "And you, since you're so keen on helping her, can escort her there, Miss Scarrow," Krohn instructed sharply.

Olivia simply looked at him with a burning hatred in her eyes before putting her arm around Corinna and guiding her toward the door.

Krohn followed a few paces behind and shouted after them, "And that's twenty points from Ravenclaw for being bloody nuisances!"

All of the Scintillating Solutions were ruined, of course, but the class was not dismissed until the full amount of time had elapsed. Krohn sat glowering at his desk while his students cleaned up their cauldrons in absolute silence. None of the Hufflepuffs would risk their instructor's wrath, and Sophia and Sissy had little to say to one another concerning the matter. They were worried about Corinna, but there was nothing they could do about that until class was dismissed.

"Miss Colville, a word, if you please," said Krohn as the students were leaving at the end of the double class.

Sophia tried her best not to feel vexed as she looked at the smirk on Sissy's face. She knew that Sissy would be going directly to the hospital wing, presuming that Corinna was still there. She wasn't so sure, but nevertheless, she was somewhat displeased by the fact that Krohn had asked her to wait, knowing that she certainly would want to see Corinna as soon as possible.

"Yes, professor," she replied coolly, approaching the desk as the classroom emptied.

Professor Krohn noticed the look in her dark eyes. It was a smoldering sort of fire that might have been missed by others, especially given her otherwise tranquil expression. He could tell that she was a bit angry, or at least quite irritated, whether she would admit it or not. It occurred to him that he might bear part of the responsibility for that ire, but he simply did not care. His class had been interrupted in what he considered to be a most unusual fashion, that he suspected was only marginally related to Miss Bellew's lack of skill in potions, and he wanted very much to know why.

"Miss Colville, I am at a loss," he said, looking up from his desk.

"Oh?" she questioned.

"What happened to your friend? I hardly yelled at her at all and..."

"You know that she has a certain talent in the area of Divinations, don't you?" inquired Sophia, not wanting to reveal too much, but wanting to give a satisfactory answer just the same.

"Of course. That fact is well known," said Krohn with a grimace. He was not especially partial to the art. His favorite grandfather had always told him that practitioners of Divinations were very strange, abnormal people who were to be avoided at all possible costs.

"She had a very trying weekend," she replied enigmatically.

Krohn raised an eyebrow and asked, "Would you care to elaborate?"

"No, professor, I don't think I should, but perhaps if you had a talk with Professor Mallaghan, he could..."

"No thank you," Krohn interrupted with unpleasant expression.

"Then suffice it to say that Corinna is having difficulty with her abilities and the sort of things that they make her privy to," said Sophia slowly. She suddenly had the horrible feeling that Corinna knew something unfortunate about Krohn himself. She shifted uneasily.

Krohn had not made that connection, but observed his student's discomfort.

"I am sorry that I was so hard with her then," he told Sophia.

"Should I pass that along, sir?"

"By all means," he consented.

They looked at one another for a moment with somber, yet impassive expressions on their faces before Sophia asked, "May I go now, professor?"

"Certainly," he answered, gesturing toward the open classroom door.

Sophia did not find her friends in the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey, who was putting away a bottle of Calming Draught, informed her that they had all returned to Ravenclaw Tower. She was grateful for this information and made her way quickly thither, hoping that Corinna would be willing to tell her what was wrong.

Her friends, unable to claim their favorite seats in front of the hearth, which was not lit due to the unexpectedly and unseasonable warm temperatures outside, were sitting near out of the windows. Corinna, she noticed as she approached, was still looking pale, not to mention a bit bleary-eyed, possibly thanks to the potion Sophia assumed Madam Pomfrey had given her for her nerves. She smiled slightly as she saw Martin perched on the window seat next to her with an anxious look in his eyes.

"So devoted," thought Sophia.

Of course, she didn't see the slightly sour and perhaps envious expression that graced Sissy's face as she glanced up from her defense text.

Corinna managed a half smile as she noticed Sophia, who took a seat in a vacant chair between where Corinna and Olivia were sitting.

"All right?" Sophia questioned tactfully.

"Better," shrugged Corinna.

"But she won't tell us anything..." murmured Sissy, not bothering to look up from her book again. Possibly she did not deem it worth the effort.

"It hasn't anything to do with the vampire or with the future. I'm not obligated," countered Corinna.

Sissy arched an eyebrow and was about to ask how she arrived at that conclusion, but Sophia spoke first.

"Of course you aren't," she agreed, despite her desperate desire to know what had caused her to have such a reaction in potions' class.

Martin nodded in agreement to this, but there was a look of reluctance in his still worried eyes.

Corinna looked at Sophia and frowned, almost to herself, as though debating some great internal question, and said, "Maybe someday..." and simply left it at that.

* * *

A/N:

H. Sibelius: I planned it out for the most part. Thanks for reviewing!

halfblood princess and Summer: Thank you!

hemtec: Thanks!


	56. The loss of a father figure

Chapter Fifty-six

The loss of a father figure

The last weeks of March ended in rain and storm, the severity of which most students had not seen at the school before and kept them indoors until the first days of April, which were blessedly, unseasonably warm. The house teams all took to the Quidditch pitch with relish, though the season had long since ended. Ravenclaw had a new Beater to train, although Ignatius Ambrose had reluctantly informed Olivia that she would be required to try out with all the other candidates in the autumn because of the 'irregularities' from the previous season, namely Corinna being selected as a reserve player and then going straight onto the regular team, which had been markedly unusual. Olivia was only too glad to comply as she looked forward to healthy competition in all of its forms and dearly wanted to try out and prove her skills.

No sign had been seen of the vampire during this time, though Martin continued to have nightmares, which were only marginally combated by the cheering letters he received from his Uncle Alastor, who was no longer in St. Mungo's, but recuperating quietly at his family home near Glasgow.

Anxiety levels remained high at Hogwarts, and safety procedures were not relaxed as the headmaster insisted that this was what the vampire was waiting for. Martin silently agreed with his father's assessment of the situation. His roommates were a bit more vocal on that front, often wondering aloud if they would be spending the next term in fear as well. Martin would just look at them with a grim expression and not reply. He could not find an acceptable answer to that inquiry.

Corinna was continuing to battle with her talent, with the constant and unwavering assistance of Professor Mallaghan, but she was no closer to solving the puzzle of what would happen regarding the vampire. She still firmly believed that for better or worse, most likely the latter, it would be over before the end of the term. That unsettled her a great deal as only a month and a two weeks remained until they would be boarding the Hogwarts Express ... either with glad faces and summer assignments or lying cold and still in wooden boxes.

Her friends pressed her for more information, more specifics, more details, and she gave them all that she could, but everything to come remained a jumble of imprecise and ever-changing images that at time threatened to overwhelm her. Combined with this was also the effort she expended to try and forget the severed head from her vision of the past that looked more than a bit like her potions' professor. It was difficult to face him at times, but she managed to do it with help from her friends, with whom she had finally shared her less disturbing and mildly vampire-related visions, though it was to little effect.

Sissy, on the opposite end of the spectrum, had had a comparatively wonderful end of March, during which she had tripped the nearly blind Astrophel Black at every chance, giving him scraped hands and bruised knees as fitting recompense for what he had done to the defense professor. Professor Krohn, who she assumed was unable to reason with arrogant Black, had left the Conjuntivitus Curse in place for the better part of ten days. She hoped that he had learned his lesson, but one could never tell.

She thoroughly enjoyed putting the rotten git in his place, though once the curse was lifted, she desisted. She rather imagined that she would need to watch her back for a long time to come. That was fine with Sissy so long as she didn't need to watch Professor Knowles' back too. She was only one person and could not always be there to watch out for her professor, who she knew did not need nursemaid, only a pair of friendly eyes to help him combat the not-so-friendly ones.

On the morning in question, Martin and the girls were a few minutes late for breakfast when they entered the Great Hall. Sophia was the first one to notice something as they made their way to where they normally sat together near the head of the Ravenclaw table. The hall, which was completely filled with students and their professors, was unusually quiet and very still. She felt uncomfortable as she noticed the subdued and downcast expressions on the faces of her house mates.

A quick glance at the high table only served to increase that feeling. Professor Sprout was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Beatrice Vector at her side looked less parsimonious and yet more unhappy than Sophia had ever seen her.

Professor McGonagall had her head bowed and was not even glancing up from her plate to monitor her normally boisterous students. Sophia could see that her breakfast was uneaten, as was her husband's beside her. The headmaster appeared to be lost in thought.

Sophia looked at Professor Krohn who was quietly reading something to Professor Knowles, whispering into the other professor's ear as they held a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ between them. The professor of potions was extremely pale and appeared nearly disconsolate as he read to his colleague. He was the picture of sorrow and somber grief. Knowles' face by contrast was a blank and unreadable mask.

"What's happened" murmured Olivia anxiously as they took their seats.

Sophia shook her head and shrugged, glancing up at the high table again where Krohn was putting the newspaper aside. Knowles patted his shoulder and took up his cane, leaving the table earlier than was customary for him. Professor Krohn remained rooted where he was just staring down at the newspaper.

Martin glanced down the table toward his year mates. They all looked predictably unhappy, like the rest of the students and professors in the hall. Middleton glanced up in time to notice the confused expression on Martin's face. He grabbed a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ from Halliday and passed it down the table toward Martin, who gave him a serious and grateful nod.

"Well" hissed Sissy as he unfolded the paper and began looking for the cause of the sadness that hung over the hall.

After a moment Martin briefly closed his eyes and gave the newspaper to her without saying a word. He wanted to say something, but nothing would come. His lips moved in silence. Then he just shook his head and rubbed his eyes with a pained expression.

Sissy looked at the front page headline and at first saw nothing unusual there: _Werewolf Deregulation Declared Unconstitutional by Wizengamot_. 

Then she glanced further down the page to a photograph of a balding, almost elderly wizard with a soft smile and intelligent eyes. She smiled slightly too as she recognized the former headmaster, Armando Dippet. The picture was obviously an older one, taken perhaps as long ago as before the Grindelwald conflict. She felt rather pleased to see him in the paper, looking every bit the dashing Ravenclaw, like a gentleman and a scholar.

Then as she read the caption, her face fell and a lump formed in her throat.

"_The wizarding world loses one its most beloved educators. Armando Dippet, 175, former headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and noted Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, dies at his home in Surrey..._" read the caption beneath the picture of the aged wizard.

Sissy could not bear to read any further and passed the paper to Olivia and Sophia, who shared it with Corinna.

They had all admired the old Ravenclaw and felt a pang of loss as they learned of his death. Olivia and Corinna both blinked back tears as they read the short article on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_. Whether the vampire was defeated or not, their beloved headmaster would never return or be reinstated. He would never even see another game of Quidditch between Ravenclaw and its rivals.

"He's gone" said Sophia in a half-disbelieving voice.

Classes were canceled that day to allow some of the professors who had been special friends of the former headmaster or had known him for a very long time to attend memorial services that were being held for him in London. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Kettleburn, Vector, and Krohn were all taking carriages to Hogsmeade and then apparating from there to Diagon Alley. Martin, who was privy to this information, had been invited to go along with his parents, but his preference was to stay and grieve instead with his friends, all of whom were greatly affected by the loss of Dippet, whom they had counted as one of their own.

"The very best of us..." as Sophia described him that morning as they sat around a quiet table in the rear of the library. The common room had been far too crowded and altogether miserable.

Olivia gave a solemn sniff of agreement to that statement, but didn't lift her head from the table where she had been resting it for sometime. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She did not even bother to wipe them away. More would only follow them. It was best just to let the tears come.

"I should have seen this" said Corinna morosely.

"He was all the way in Surrey. You couldn't see that far..." said Sophia in a reassuring tone of voice.

"What good would it have done" asked Sissy, hiding her grief behind a veil of irritability that all of her friends could see through easily.

She was just as profoundly affected as the rest of them. She had in fact been looking forward to the day when Professor Dippet returned to Hogwarts, even if it was only for a visit or for a Quidditch match.

"We could have been better prepared" said Martin with a small sigh. He had been very quiet since breakfast, which none of them had eaten, not even Corinna.

"Sorry" Corinna mumbled to herself.

They were quiet for some moments until the sound of approaching footsteps caused Sissy to look up. She stiffened as Astrophel Black rounded the corner flanked by his constant companions Bulstrode and Flint. Black gave Sissy a hard look as he spotted her and stopped in his tracks.

"Let us alone" she said in a firm tone, reaching into her sleeve as she spoke.

"Well" asked Flint in a very low voice, glancing nervously from Astrophel to the Ravenclaws seated at the table. He did not seem to be particularly itching for a fight, but, as always, that was Astrophel's decision.

Olivia had not moved, but the rest were poised to go for their wands. Sissy had an eager gleam in her cold eyes as she stared at Black. She was ready to fight if need be and could count on Martin and Corinna to back her up quickly. Sophia and Olivia would follow suit. On a better day she would have counted Olivia as prepared as well, but she was taking the loss very hard.

Black stared at them for a moment, and at first Sissy was certain that he would draw his wand and they would have it out ... in the library of all places. But he surprised her.

"Not today" said Black, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away.

For a moment Sissy thought it was a threat. Then she realized just how far the respect that many held in their hearts for Professor Dippet extended ... even into the very depths of Slytherin house, it seemed. She relaxed, but still knew that the day would come when she would have to face Black in a fair fight ... for her own honor, for that of her friends and professors, and for Ravenclaw house. But at least for that one day, she could rest easy, thanks to Armando Dippet.

Sissy Howard blinked away a tear and let go of her wand, leaving it to rest in her sleeve.

The faculty returned around mid-afternoon that day looking just as somber as when they had left, not to mention damp, as it was raining in London, though Hogwarts was enjoying relatively pleasant weather for a change. The five Ravenclaws were on their way back to the Aerie with the hope that perhaps some of their house mates, or at least the loudly weeping and openly despondent ones, had cleared out, when Martin spied his parents, arm in arm, walking toward his mother's office.

Minerva glanced their way and smiled tiredly at her son and his friends. She could see the sadness etched upon their young faces and paused to speak with them.

"Good afternoon" she said, releasing her husband's arm.

He too stopped and looked at the children, surveying them over his rain-spotted spectacles.

"How was it, mum" asked Martin after pleasantries had been exchanged.

Her smile faded, but she answered"Armando would have been pleased."

"It was very private and not at all ostentatious. He would have liked that very much" added Dumbledore for clarification.

"Just his colleagues, friends, and family in attendance" said McGonagall.

"But he was such a great wizard..." objected Olivia, who was mildly horrified that only a few people, she wrongly presumed, had chosen to pay last respects to Professor Dippet. Tears filled her eyes once again.

"Very great indeed" agreed Dumbledore, fishing a hankie out of one of his many pockets and giving it to her with a patient smile"but Armando was..." and here Dumbledore groped for the appropriate word.

"He was ... reserved, as I'm sure some of you noticed, and perhaps even what some might call shy" remarked Minerva with tears in her eyes as she struggled to describe the wizard who had been her own headmaster for most of her school years. She had known him quite well during the war years as well and through his association with her husband. "He wouldn't have wanted a crowd at his memorial service" she added.

"I never realized" said Olivia softly.

"I don't suppose he seemed that way to you because he was your headmaster and so much older than you" said Dumbledore as he put an arm around Minerva, understanding just how she felt. He had been quite sad when his own headmaster had died.

Olivia dabbed at her eyes and nodded, remembering for a moment the look on Dippet's face when he had emerged from his office to find a crowd waiting to send him off properly. He had been quite startled by the gathering, but quick to recover. Olivia laughed quietly to herself as she thought about the hug he had given her to prevent her from crying.

"I think I understand" she sniffed, wiping her eyes and trying to hold back anymore tears.

Martin patted her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic smile. He had never seen those qualities in the former headmaster, but now that he thought about the unassuming manner that Dippet had had about him, Martin found that he had liked those things about him very much.

"The service was quite lovely" said Minerva with a gentle smile, glancing up at her husband. "Reynard said such ... such heartfelt things about him" she added, taking a tartan handkerchief from her own pocket and surreptitiously dabbing at her eyes.

"Professor Krohn" asked Olivia in disbelief and confusion. She didn't like the idea of that brute saying anything about Professor Dippet.

"There's no harm in saying that they shared a special bond, is there, my dear" Albus asked his wife.

"He was like another son to Armando" she agreed, perhaps forgetting the students for a moment"and Merlin knows that Reynard needed a father figure when he first came here."

Minerva, who had been a student at that time and remembered well Krohn's far more temperamental and youthful days, simply shook her head thoughtfully. Armando had been a calming influence and, unlike his own father, he had always taken Krohn quite seriously, involving him in many of the school's affairs that junior staff members might easily have been left out of. Armando considered it a courtesy and a privilege to so instruct the young professor. Few knew it, although some might have guessed, but Armando hoped that Krohn would someday, in a century or so, become headmaster of the school himself.

"He certainly did" Dumbledore agreed, though his eyes twinkled a bit at this.

He did not mention it, but by his estimation the two wizards had needed each other. Dippet had lost his wife just the spring before Krohn's arrival and his eldest daughter two years prior to that. Taking care of Reynard, who almost immediately became something of a refugee from both wars, wizarding and Muggle, had taken Dippet's mind off his own losses and had helped him to heal. Even after the war, the two had remained very close, despite their different mind-sets on many things. Dumbledore found that quite touching, when Krohn wasn't trying to antagonize him.

Upon hearing all of this, the girls exchanged uncomfortable glances, except Sophia, who knew something about what Krohn felt for his own father, who had died during the previous autumn. He had actually lost two fathers in the space of a year's time. Her heart ached for him.

"Poor Reynard" Minerva whispered, grasping her husband's arm and shaking her head. "It may be some time before he gets over this."

Sophia rather agreed with her.

* * *

A/N:

hemtec: Thank you for reviewing!

hsibelius: Thank you!


	57. Times of grief

Chapter Fifty-seven

Times of grief

Corinna noticed later that afternoon, as the five of them sat around the common room with their books and assignments, that Sophia seemed unusual pensive, even given the situation. She knew instinctively that the other girl was worrying about their potions' professor. She shuddered and wondered if she should tell Sophia about the vision she had had involving some member of his family. Three members, she reminded herself, thinking unwillingly of the sack which had contained two additional heads ... and six hands, unless Somerville had been joking. She was rather certain that that was not the case.

But would knowing all of this make Sophia feel any better? Corinna had the nagging feeling that the knowledge both would and would not help her friend. Certainly she imagined that Sophia would _want_ to know. She was already aware, as were the rest of them, thanks mostly to Martin, of that fact that Krohn's siblings had perished during the conflict with Grindelwald. Of course, Sophia was perhaps a bit more tender-hearted that the rest of them, especially Sissy and Olivia... Would this be a rare case where ignorance would be comparable to bliss?

Something else occurred to Corinna as she watch Sophia glance up from her books and toward the portrait hole: she was planning to see Professor Krohn that afternoon. Corinna could hardly fathom why, save that she knew that Sophia was very fond of the professor, although no one understood why that was exactly. Corinna had always suspected it was because they were so different, with the exception of their formidable skills in the area of potions, though this made positively no sense to Corinna. And there was always Sophia's naturally empathetic disposition to which her fondness could be attributed.

Nevertheless, Corinna had the nagging feeling that she ought to inform Sophia of what she knew if for no other reason than so that the other girl would be more prepared and knowledgeable if she chose to intrude upon the grief of the potions' master.

"I need something from the library. Do you want to go with me to get it" she asked Sophia, closing her Herbology text and leaving her seat.

"Certainly" Sophia answered with a smile.

The corridors were nearly deserted as they made their way toward the library. Most of the students were in their common rooms or perhaps out of doors, enjoying the fine weather despite the pall the hung over Hogwarts in the wake of the death one of the school's most beloved headmasters. Something about this made Corinna feel better. Maybe because she knew that they would not be running into Black nor his cronies or simply because the quiet was less painful than the hushed voices in the common room of the Aerie had been.

"I wanted to talk to you" she said to Sophia as they walked, taking their time on their way to their destination.

"I figured as much" Sophia nodded with a hint of a smile. She may not have had Corinna's talents, but she was quite observant at times. "What about" she questioned curiously.

"Professor Krohn..." said Corinna awkwardly.

Sophia had passed along his apology regarding the incident in potions, and Corinna had accepted it. She bore him no ill-will for the incident nor for his handling of it. She did not think that any of the other professors, except Professor Mallaghan, of course, would have reacted any more favorably to such an unusual display.

Sophia raised her eyebrows at this and asked"Does this have to do with your visions"

Corinna was nearly amazed that she had made the connection, but perhaps she did not give her friends enough credit in some matters, including those related to her talent.

"Yes, it does actually" nodded Corinna.

Sophia paused and looked at her, waiting for an explanation. Corinna grimaced and looked around for somewhere more discrete where they could talk without fear of being overheard. She glimpsed a small nook ahead and gestured for Sophia to follow her to it.

"Well" asked Sophia as they ducked into the small recess.

"I know ... what happened to his family ... his brothers and his sister" she said with another uncomfortable grimace.

"You do"

"I saw something of it ... when I had those visions with Professor Mallaghan. It was awful, Sophia, just awful" she said, unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap.

Corinna had previously refused to answer questions on the topic, telling them that it had very little to do with the vampire and that it was her choice not to reveal things that didn't directly affect them. Sophia had agreed with this, at least in theory, and had not pressed her, although she had wanted to do so. She was surprised that Corinna wanted to discuss the matter now and even more so because it involved Professor Krohn. The only problem was that Sophia wasn't certain she wanted to hear the contents of this vision.

"What happened to them" asked Sophia reluctantly.

Corinna took a deep breath and said"Grindelwald had Somerville behead them and cut off their hands. I ... I think Professor Krohn may have ... received their hands ... packaged as Christmas gifts."

She tried to put it as succinctly as possible to avoid the possibility that she might gag as she spoke. It worked out quite nicely, though she was still trembling slightly.

Sophia took one of her hands and squeezed it, understanding more completely the burden and horror of Corinna's gift. There was a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach as she imagined what it must have been like for her professor. She had no siblings herself, but she could well imagine what it would be like to lose any of her friends in that way. Krohn's reluctance to speak of things concerning the years of conflict possibly stemmed from his own losses, which Grindelwald had made all the more grievous, though Sophia could not begin to fathom why the Dark Wizard had done so.

"I saw one of his brothers..." said Corinna quietly. "The resemblance between them was ... quite strong."

Sophia nodded silently as the connection between what had happened in class and Corinna's visions solidified for her. She still wasn't certain that this was something she wanted to know. But it was a moot point. It was too late. She knew.

"I'm sorry you had to see that sort of thing" said Sophia after a moment longer of silence as she collected her the thoughts tumbling through her mind.

"Me too, but I suppose ... I suppose I understand some things better now ... like why everyone feared Grindel... _him_ so much and why we should be afraid of Somerville ... other than the fact he's a vampire. I never really understood how horrible the war was ... nor how frightful and evil the Dark Wizards were. Now, I understand" she explained calmly.

Sophia squeezed her hand and said"I think I do as well, though not nearly so much as you."

"Do you still intend to see Krohn this evening" asked Corinna.

"You knew" asked Sophia with a faint blush. "Of course you knew. I mean ... you heard what Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall said..."

"That's right" Corinna nodded, taking her hand from that of her friend.

"Anything I should know"

Corinna grimaced and said"I would rather that you return to the Aerie before dark. Tonight ... I don't think it will be a very pleasant night. I know something is going to happen, but I cannot see or understand what it is."

"It isn't becoming any clearer" asked Sophia with a look of profound worry in her dark eyes.

"Not one bit" said Corinna ruefully"and I don't think it will be any more so than it is now ... not until the end of this."

"Don't worry. It's enough to know we should be on our guard. Most people ... they wouldn't get that kind of warning" Sophia informed her.

This made Corinna smile just slightly. "I really do hope it's enough. I couldn't stand it if something happened..."

"None of that now" admonished Sophia. "We've had plenty of gloom for one day, haven't we"

"I suppose we have" she nodded, thinking about where Sophia would be going and the likelihood of her finding anything but gloom there. Not even Olivia would like to figure those odds.

"Then ... I guess I should be on my way if I'm to return to the Aerie before curfew" said Sophia.

"Well _before_ curfew. As soon as you can, in fact" Corinna insisted, not knowing the exact reason for her insistence, only that none of them needed to be out after sunset that night.

But what neither of the girls realized was that over the hills and mountains outside the castle, dark storm clouds were already beginning to roll in.

Sophia made her way down to the dungeons only to find both the potions' classroom and Professor Krohn's office closed, locked up tight, and presumably empty. The professor was nowhere to be seen. She imagined, therefore, that he was in his private chambers.

Perhaps someone else, or rather, anyone else, would have been daunted by the very idea of venturing into the bowels of the castle in search of Krohn, but Sophia was at times single-minded, though more often than not to a good purpose, and scarcely gave it a second thought as she made her way through the cool corridors of the dungeons.

The door that she presumed to lead to his chambers was in the most remote part of the dungeons where the soft drip of water could be heard at all times, which Sophia did not find at all pleasant. These dimly lit, cavernous corridors were cold too, causing her to draw her robes close about her shoulders and wish in vain for her house scarf, which was lying forgotten in her dormitory, thanks to the recent days of warm weather. But at last she reached a well-polished oaken door that looked out of place in the dreary, damp dungeon.

She knocked, hoping that she was not inadvertently knocking upon a portal that would lead her to the Slytherin common room, which she imagined to be several levels above her. The welcome a Ravenclaw would have received there would have been anything but a warm one.

Then she heard a familiar voice bellow"Can't a man get some peace around here"

And Sophia knew that she was in the right place, for good or for ill.

The door creaked open rather slowly to reveal Krohn, who was just getting his left arm into the sleeve of a forest green dressing gown. He was holding a half empty glass in his right hand, obviously trying not to spill the contents as he opened the door. As he looked down at Sophia, he seemed more than a little surprised, almost as though he were expecting someone else or at least not a student from a house other than Slytherin. There was a slightly bleary look in his normally keen hazel eyes.

"What're you doing down here? Students aren't _allowed_" he informed her in a mildly imperious tone, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ears as he finished wrestling with the gown.

Sophia knew precisely why she was there, to offer her condolences to her professor, but as she looked up at him, ascertaining that he was well on his way to being drunk and had possibly been crying not long before her arrival, which she now considered to be ill-timed at best, she was at a loss as to what to say to him.

This was quite a shame because Sophia was in better circumstances quite good at making other people feel better.

Krohn frowned at her and shivered slightly at the dungeon draft that was seeping into his living space, not to mention through his clothing.

"Well" he prompted, longing to return to his cognac and his quiet place by the fire where he had been drinking to the memory of Armando Dippet for the better part of an hour.

Sophia shivered and just managed to stammer"I'm sorry" before bursting into helpless tears.

The professor stared at her for a moment before placing his glass on a small stand just inside the door.

"And just what are you sorry about, Miss Colville" he asked, leaning down and looking into his student's tear-filled, dark eyes.

"Everything" she sniffed.

"I shouldn't invite you inside, and I'm likely to get into such trouble if I do..." he said to her with a serious expression.

"Then ... then I should go" she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Only if you want to. I've never concerned myself with mundane things like rules" said Krohn with a ghost of a smile.

This was something that Sophia could hardly believe, but as she had not known the professor when he was younger, she would not have known about his penchant for gross violations of the rules of conduct, which were, of course, generally overlooked by the late Professor Dippet, who attributed them to youthful excess and nothing more.

Sophia shook her head, indicating that she did not wish to leave, and Professor Krohn moved aside and gestured that she should come inside.

The potions' masters quarters were very warm in comparison to the cold, damp corridor outside. The parlor was done in dark green with traces of silver and black. The lights were low, but there was a fire crackling somberly in the hearth that illuminated the room in a soft, flickering orange light. The parlor was not particularly homey, although a few stray books, scattered parchments, and the odd empty cauldron made it seem very much the home of a scholar. The scent of floo powder was surprisingly heavy in the air.

"Please, have a seat, Miss Colville" said the professor, gesturing to the couch in front of the fireplace. A rumpled throw was hanging across the back of it as it had been very chilly before Krohn had lit the fire.

"Thank you" she whispered, sitting down.

Professor Krohn took a seat with her, attempting to figure out what was the matter with her. He was thankful that she, unlike some of his Ravenclaw students, did not turn into complete gibbering heaps when they were upset. Rational Miss Colville was very much easier to manage than her more Divinations-inclined friend.

"I didn't mean to trouble you" said Sophia. She wanted to make that perfectly clear.

"Quite all right" he said, glancing toward the hearth. "I suppose it is better to have company than to be alone" Krohn added quietly, almost regretfully.

"Especially at times like this" said Sophia.

"Yes" he agreed, nodding and rubbing his eyes.

"I had hoped that Professor Dippet might come back at the end of this business with the vampire" she said hesitantly.

"I tried to convince him of the same" chuckled Krohn, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He said that the school needed ... youth and vitality ... things that he simply couldn't give to it anymore. He was _happy_ to be retiring ... for the most part. I only wish he had had the chance to _enjoy_ his retirement" he added.

The former headmaster had only been away from the school for five months or so, hardly enough time to do anything of the things his Chocolate Frog Card said that he enjoyed like gardening or the writing of poetic verse.

"I miss him already" sighed Professor Krohn. At a mildly quizzical look from Sophia, he explained"We kept in touch by owl and through the fire. I scarcely went three days without hearing from him."

Sophia sniffed again and nodded her agreement. "It's awful to lose someone like this" she said quietly.

"I imagine that most of the students feel the same. Armando was well liked" said Krohn judiciously.

"Olivia's been crying all day..." she informed him.

He nodded that he understood, but made no other indication of how he felt, although it comforted him to know that he was not alone in his grief, that others were mourning just as he was.

"But it must be far worse for you" Sophia added.

"Hmm" he questioned.

"You were close, weren't you" she said. It was not a question, but an observation that had been aided by what Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had said.

"Yes, quite" he answered, not realizing that it had been so obvious. He did not realize that Sophia had had assistance in making that determination. "The headmaster ... he was like ... like ..."

"A father, sir" she asked.

Krohn nodded and squeezed his eyes closed to stop the tears that threatened to trickle from his eyes at the thought of the kindly older wizard who had welcome him to Hogwarts in the autumn of 1936, nearly twenty years before, when he had been naught but a brash and angry young master of potions with a chip on his shoulder and a worn satchel in his hands filled with all of his earthly possessions, everything that he had managed to salvage from his home when his _real_ father had thrown him out for 'defecting' to the 'other side'.

A warm hand on his shoulder reminded him that he was not alone now, at least not in the physical sense of the word, though he suddenly felt very much as though he were alone and would be forever.

"Exactly that" he murmured in response to her question.

"I'm sorry" said Sophia.

"Aren't we all" said Krohn, putting his arm around her as he realized that the blow was probably a serious one to her as well, given that Armando had been a Ravenclaw and had treated the students of his house with a certain, albeit subtle, partiality.

Sophia simply nodded and sniffed softly.

Krohn wished that he had a handkerchief to give her, but he had used them all himself and sent to them to be laundered by the house elves.

"You're ... you're all alone now, aren't you" she asked him.

The question caused him to start and cut him nearly to the quick. The idea that Miss Colville might have some minor skill at Legilimency flitted through his mind, but he brushed it away very swiftly. He felt transparent, as though she could see the void Armando's death had left within him, and a bit guilty for being so.

"In some ways, I suppose I am" he answered simply.

"I wish things could have been different" she told Krohn with a solemn look. The tears were gone from her eyes for the moment. He looked at her questioningly. "The war ... your family ... this ... everything" she said haltingly.

"You know about all that too, do you" he asked her.

"Something of it, yes" Sophia nodded with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

"Whoever told you ought to flogged. It gives most people a turn ... even now, depending on what they've been told" he muttered.

"It was Corinna ... and I'd rather she not be flogged for it. I'm sure she'd rather not know this sort of thing herself" said Sophia.

"And who told her, I wonder" said Krohn with an unpleasant grimace.

"She has other ways of finding things out, if you'll recall, professor: her gift" Sophia reminded him.

He paled slightly as he put two and two together.

"That nonsense in potions..." he said aloud with a stricken expression. He put a hand over his mouth at the realization.

"Naturally" nodded Sophia with another serious look"and she told me, because she thought I should know... I could hardly believe it."

Krohn made a mental note not to be so hard on Bellew in the future, though with her knack at mucking things up in his laboratory, it would surely be a struggle. Nevertheless, he suddenly found himself thinking that with such burdens to bear, she deserved better than he had given her in the past.

"Yes ... quite the surprise" he murmured, rubbing his eyes as they began to sting again. "Did she tell you that they were ... for a time ... in league with _him_" he asked.

"No" Sophia stammered as her eyes widened.

"My family was very supportive of ... well, very supportive at first. I never cared for political affairs, so I was left out of that for the most part. I was quite young too. My father would go on about _him_ at the dinner table ... how the portkeys were all on time with _him_ in charge, how the new broomstick regulations made more sense, and how safe all of the wizarding communities were now ... no more random werewolf attacks or young uneducated wizards running amok in the streets" said Krohn, shaking his head sadly.

"You knew better"

"No, I simply didn't care. Not in the least. Not even when my brothers and my younger sister swore allegiance to him" he said, running one hand through his hair. "It was their affair, not mine" he added"and my recompense for my apathy? For not trying to convince them to come to Britain with me and forget all about that nonsense"

Sophia shuddered, thinking of the gifts that Corinna had told her he had received, but she could say nothing on the subject for fear of bursting into tears again, which was not something she wanted to do. She merely contented herself with taking his hand in her own and squeezing it. The tender gesture spoke reams to the professor.

"You know the answer then" he asked.

"Yes" she replied.

"No need to discuss the unpleasantness of matter then. Suffice it to say ... I loved them very much ... and should have done more to protect them" he said with a sighing breath.

"You mustn't blame yourself. That was all _his_ doing. It wasn't your fault" said Sophia, silently cursing the name of Grindelwald.

The certain and earnest look on her face made tears come to his eyes anew, but he smiled too; this was just what Armando had told him when he had first received the news of their deaths in late October 1944:

"_My dear boy, there was nothing that you could do. They chose their fates when they defied him. Try to take comfort in that; in the fact that they weren't killed by Aurors trying to escape nor by anyone else on our side. They chose to fight for what they believed to be right, no doubt with a great deal of courage and valor. This was their choice to make. Not yours, Reynard._"

"Thank you" he said quietly to Sophia, though his answer to Professor Dippet had not been half so courteous. He blinked the tears away and asked"Would you care to see a picture of them, Miss Colville? Of my siblings"

"Please ... if you don't mind" she answered, unclasping his hand as he moved to rise.

"Not at all" he said, striding quickly to a desk in the corner of the room.

Sophia watched as he opened a drawer and sifted through its contents, removing a framed photograph from the bottom of the drawer. He stared at it for a long moment before holding it to his breast and bowing his head. She imagined that he had not looked at that picture in a very long time.

When Krohn returned to the couch, he sat down heavily next to her and held the picture so that she could see it.

Standing in the photograph were three wizards of varying ages and a somewhat younger witch. Three members of the little party were wearing long black robes with strange runes embroidered upon them in silver and gold thread that had a little bit of red mixed in with it. The robes were cowled, but the two wizards and witch wore them thrown back neatly behind them.

The fourth wizard was dressed in plain and somber gray robes that buttoned to the chin in a rather formal fashion. Only by his blond hair could Sophia tell that he was her Professor Krohn; he was smiling broadly in photograph and had his arms around the shoulders of the young witch and the taller of his two brothers, who nearly rivaled him in height. Corinna could have readily identified him as Michael, though his hair was not so dingy in hue as when she had seen him. There was still a strong resemblance between the two brothers, though Michael was much older than Reynard.

The witch was petite by comparison and her nose wrinkled as she laughed - this was a wizarding photograph after all. Her light brown hair was done up in a French braid, and sunlight flashed off her wire-rimmed glasses as she gazed fondly up at her youngest older brother and ruffled his nearly shoulder length blond hair, trying her best to muss it.

The middle of the brothers, Dietrich Krohn, looked more pensive than his happily laughing and smiling siblings and toyed with the sleeves of his dark robes as he stood there. For some reason Sophia imagined him to be as near to Professor Krohn in temperament as Michael was in looks. He seemed to be a bit worried and ill at ease, though obviously still trying to enjoy the company of his brothers and sister.

"That was the day that they took employment among the ranks of those in his private staff. They were very proud and pleased, as you can see" explained Krohn.

"How old are you here" asked Sophia curiously as she looked from the youthful blond wizard in the photograph to Krohn beside her.

"I had scarcely turned nineteen. I was not very long out of the Akademie and had not decided yet what to do with my life. You know where my skills lie ... so there is no need to state that I had many choices open to me" he told her, making a subtle reference to how valued potions' skills were during the war years and even just before.

"Liesel was nearly eighteen. She had just left school with outstanding marks and was perfecting her Animagus form, which was a squirrel. Dietrich was thirty-one here and well-respected in the German Ministry of Magic, which is how they all became involved with him. Father believed that Dietrich would accomplish great things. I wish ... I wish he had. Our eldest brother Michael was thirty-seven here, but he had just got engaged to be married ... when he was killed. I heard that the girl disappeared and was never found" said Krohn with a soft sigh.

"You were so young" said Sophia, looking at the smiling faces one more time.

"Yes, we were" he agreed, thinking of the wedding plans that never came to fruition. To the best of his knowledge, Liesel had never even had the chance to fall in love. And with somber, serious Dietrich it had been much the same.

He put the picture aside and saw tears in Sophia's eyes again. She had been thinking how happy her professor looked as a young man in that photograph. She had never seen him that happy before.

"Those days will never come again for him" she thought sadly.

He frowned as he realized that those tears weren't for Professor Dippet nor precisely for his siblings. Those tears were for him. He furrowed his brow and wondered if she had come down to the deepest part of the dungeons only because of what she knew of him and his sorrows and cares.

Then Krohn remembered that this was sensitive, albeit mostly level-headed, Miss Colville and _knew_ he was right about her motives. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to shout at her for meddling or thank her for her concern. He settled for laughing softly in confused disbelief and holding out his arms to her.

"Don't worry, Miss Colville; I have a great knack for surviving things of this nature" he said quietly to her.

She couldn't help but to chuckle at this glib statement as she hugged him tightly.

"I'm glad, professor" she said, though she fervently wished the his life had been otherwise - filled with less sadness and woe.

* * *

A/N:

h sibelius: Thank you for pointing that out. It was actually fault. It stopped recognizing certain punctuation marks. Thanks for reviewing!


	58. The fire of their testing

Chapter Fifty-eight

The fire of their testing

Sophia and her professor spent a long time sitting in companionable silence upon his couch until he glanced up at the old clock next to the floo powder on his mantelpiece and realized that it was growing close to sunset and curfew. They had been there for some time. He wasn't sure precisely how long, but it was certainly time for her to leave.

"Miss Colville, I'm afraid that if I keep you out after hours, your friends will worry, and rightly so," he said, standing and stretching his long limbs.

"Yes, they will," she agreed with a very somber look on her face as she remembered the warning that Corinna had given her about being out of the Aerie after night had fallen. She had taken that warning quite seriously, although she had lost track of the time.

Krohn plucked at his dressing gown and said, "Allow me to put on some robes, and I will escort you back."

"There's no need," Sophia assured him.

"But I insist," he said with a slightly smirking smile.

"Very well," she nodded as he retreated to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Privately, she was grateful, even though she thought it a terrible inconvenience for her professor.

The castle halls were already shrouded in shadow when Professor Krohn and Sophia emerged from the dungeons. This made her more than a little uneasy, especially as the far-off sound of thunder from a coming storm reached her ears. She had unwittingly violated a warning from Corinna, which was something that regularly, although not always, had unpleasant consequences. She walked close to Krohn as he strode purposefully through the corridors at his side.

"Worried?" he asked, glancing down at her.

"A bit..." she admitted quite freely, knowing that he would find no fault with that.

In fact, the professor was quite pleased, though he kept that opinion to himself, as he hoped that such concern would prevent Miss Colville from doing anything rash or irresponsible in the future. He hoped, but he did not truly believe that it would. If circumstances arose that she believed to warrant action from her, he knew that she would not hesitate to act. He admired that on some level - he had respected his siblings for what they had done, though he had still wished they had acted otherwise - although it made him uncomfortable and a bit sad.

"That is quite understandable," Krohn acknowledged after a pause. "I am not without concerns myself," he added to reassure her.

Sophia felt mildly relieved to hear that she was not alone in her fears.

At the bottom of the stairs leading to the Aerie, the professor paused and bowed slightly to Sophia.

"This is where I will take my leave of you as I have no desire to climb all that way. I think you should be all right from here on as even the lower portion of the tower is warded well enough," he told her with some confidence.

"Of course," she agreed with a nod.

"I ... I enjoyed our little chat. Perhaps we shall speak again, but on less weighty topics," said Professor Krohn with the barest hint of a smile coming to his lips.

"Yes, I shall look forward to it, sir," Sophia replied. She counted his words as a high compliment. They were entirely unexpected too.

"Good-night then," he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

Sophia did not watch him go as she knew her friends would be more than a bit concerned by her lengthy absence.

About halfway up the spiraling stairs of Ravenclaw Tower, Sophia heard the sound of shouting above her and running feet above her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she recognized the voices as those of her friends. For a moment she couldn't make out what they were saying. Then one voice rose above the others:

"Sophia! Sophia! Go back down! You must warn Krohn!" she heard Corinna call out to her at the top of her lungs.

"What?" she shouted back in confusion.

"The vampire!" yelled Martin.

Sophia only hesitated for a second before starting heedlessly back down the stairs at a full sprint. She imagined that Corinna had had a break-through and knew that something was going to happen to the potions' master. Behind her she could hear her friends running down the stairs as well, but she had them by more than a few turns in the narrow tower stairs.

She was nearly to the bottom when she heard the disturbing sound of raised voices below her. One she easily recognized as Krohn, but the other? At first it was not so familiar. Then she realized that she had heard this voice before, though it had been through a door... It was the voice of the vampire. They were shouting spells back and forth at one another.

"Professor!" she screamed, taking her wand from her pocket as she raced into the corridor below.

As she turned toward the source of the shouting, she saw Professor Krohn holding his wand aloft, blocking the spells that the vampire sent at him with a certain finesse, though his brow was already drenched with sweat from the exertion. His robes had been rent from the collar to the navel by a curse or hex, but from what Sophia could see, his skin was untouched, and he remained uninjured and unharmed.

The vampire had its pointed teeth bared as it spat curse after curse at the master of potions, who apparently, not to mention very surprisingly, was quite capable of defending himself. The face of the creature was horribly scarred on one side, no doubt from its earlier encounter with Alastor Moody, but it still looked pale and menacing despite this defect. Its red eyes glowed with a peculiar and unholy inner fire as it almost seemed to enjoy the duel.

Sophia gulped for air, trying to decide what spell to use. Hardly a brilliant student in defense, she couldn't think of anything that might help her professor, that the vampire could not deflect easily given her skill, or lack thereof, in the more advanced defense techniques. Her ears were ringing with panic and her wand hand was shaking terribly. She simply didn't know what to do.

Then, before she could decide, the vampire hissed a spell that she did not recognized.

Krohn tried to block the beam of red light that came from the wand of his opponent, but the effort seemed futile to Sophia. He was lifted from his feet and hurled against the wand behind him with such force that Sophia thought that she heard a sound like that of a sickening, bone-breaking crunch. She felt dizzy for a brief moment as she watch Krohn slide to the floor.

Then she forgot everything: the wand in her hand, the vampire that stood looking at its handiwork with a smug expression, and the sound of her frantic friends somewhere behind her on the stairs. She rushed headlong toward where Krohn lay in a crumpled and unmoving heap on the floor with a muted cry of anguish.

"Professor?" she questioned as she knelt beside him, shaking him by the shoulder.

There was blood oozing from his left ear. She wasn't even certain that he was breathing. A strangled sob escaped her throat. Was he dead? Had the vampire killed him? Simple as that?

"Not even a challenge," said a low voice from just behind her.

Sophia looked up at the vampire with tears in her eyes. She leveled her wand at it, though her hand shook even as she did so.

"You can't have him," she said in a tremulous voice.

"Oh, I don't want _him_. He would hardly have been worth risking death and damnation for," the vampire answered coolly. The expression on its ruined face was a very smug and self-satisfied one.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she had no other opportunity to respond as the vampire looked quickly toward the stairs and, upon seeing Martin, Sissy, Olivia, and Corinna all rushing toward him with wands raised, gave a short, dry laugh and transformed into a bat, before winging its way down the corridor in the direction of the library.

Sophia tucked her wand into her sleeve and very gently gathered Krohn's head and shoulders into her arms. She was trembling terribly, but that didn't hinder her. She hardly took note of that nor of the tears that clouded her vision.

"You have to be all right. You must ... You must ..." she whispered as she pulled his tattered robes closed and touched his face.

She could hear him breathing now, though the sound seemed wrong somehow, but it was enough to tell her that he wasn't dead, not yet, and that was something at least. Sophia brushed his hair from his forehead and fought back a sob. The color had quickly drained from his skin, leaving him almost deathly pale.

"Sophia, we have to go after them," said Olivia loudly, and perhaps not for the first time, causing her to look up.

She could hardly see her friend through the tears. "Who?" she asked, not understanding.

"Sissy and Martin are chasing the vampire down! We have to help them!" she said impatiently.

"Professor Krohn... he needs help," said Sophia, shaking her head and trying very hard to reign in her emotions.

She wanted to scream at them, at everything ... for all the good it would do. For nearly the first time in her life, Sophia wanted to yell, to let go of her composure, to lose control, and just scream. Instead she merely squelched a sob and closed her eyes for a moment as she fought the competing desires. Then she shook her head, refusing to go with them.

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey. You should come too," said Corinna, who was looking at fallen Krohn with a pale and anxious face. But her voice, on the other hand, was unusually calm. She plucked at Olivia's sleeve.

"No..." Olivia protested, looking up the hallway after her other friends, who had already passed from view.

Sissy and Martin had both dashed after the vampire. Olivia wasn't certain whose idea it had been, but Martin's face had held an expression of unusual determination and courage. She suspected that he had led the charge, and that frightened Olivia very much. She had no idea what he was thinking nor why he chose to behave so rashly, even by her standards, but Olivia was somewhat comforted by the thought that Sissy was with him. Sissy could protect him. She always did.

"Really, Olivia. We're of no practical use in a fight. Come on," Corinna stubbornly insisted, pulling Olivia in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Get ... get a professor too," said Sophia with chattering teeth. "Get anyone you can," she added.

"Of course," Olivia promised, relenting and running off with Corinna at her heels.

Martin had gone after the vampire. That had been his choice, his decision, when faced with the undead foe for the third time. It was one that he had made many long weeks before. The terror would end. If it ended in his death, then that was simply that. If he managed to destroy the vampire, though he hardly knew how, that was obviously better. But he could not live with it terrorizing his friends and harming those whom he loved. That was something that he could endure no longer.

Those thoughts had raced through his mind, fueling him and driving him onward as he went off after the vampire with Sissy at his elbow.

He had not exactly expected her to join him, especially after catching a glimpse of what it had done to Krohn, which from what he had seen was horrible. He should have never known better; Sissy was right by his side, undaunted as ever, as they raced after the enormous bat that winged its way through the halls and corridors. Martin was already wheezing, but knew that he could not give up the pursuit. Sissy would not do so now, so neither could he. That thought further fueled him even as he felt a stitch in his side and they dashed up a flight of stairs and then down yet another corridor in seemingly endless pursuit.

In another part of the castle Corinna and Olivia were making their way with all speed toward the hospital wing. The two girls, thanks to their Quidditch training, which had been all the more rigorous of late as Ambrose enjoyed seeing how hard he could push his team, were hardly even winded and making good time as they ran. At least they were making good time until they both crashed into something...

"Ow ... sweet Merlin! You little shite, I'll get you this time," said the person into whom they had crashed, flailing his arms as they ended up in a disorganized pile.

"Professor," said Corinna, wincing as his very pointy elbow caught her in the chin.

"We didn't mean to..." began Olivia, hastily ducking a flailing arm.

Cyrus Knowles, the most unfortunate person with whom they had collided, ceased struggling and carefully moved away from them, wheezing slightly and feeling for his cane, which he had lost in the mayhem.

"Thought you were someone else," he muttered as Corinna located the cane and placed it gingerly in his hand. He had obviously thought they were Black and his cronies. "You ought to watch where you're going," Knowles added in a disgruntled tone.

"The vampire's in the castle again! You've got to warn someone! Professor Krohn's been injured," Olivia blurted out very quickly, attempting to drag Knowles to his feet.

"Merlin! How bad? Where is it?" he asked with a horrified expression that he could not school into his normal uncaring facade.

"It was near the Aerie, but Sissy and Martin chased it away," said Corinna, conveniently ignoring his other question, which was painful for even her to answer. She was afraid that Krohn was going to die, if he wasn't dead already.

"Krohn?" he asked insistently.

"It's bad," said Olivia, feeling ruefully concerning her uncharitable thoughts toward the professor. If he had not been between the vampire and Sophia in the corridor, what might have happened to her? Would she be the one hurt or worse?

"I see..." said Knowles as his expression grew grim and hard.

"We're going to get Madam Pomfrey," Corinna informed him.

"Please do, but be careful," he said with a firm nod. "I'll do my best to attend to the matter," said Knowles, switching his cane to his other hand before drawing his wand and moving quickly down the corridor.

Corinna had a bad feeling about that. But then she had a lot of bad feelings ... about everything that was happening to them. Absolutely everything.

Sophia had stopped sobbing, though tears continued to course intermittently down her face as she cradled Professor Krohn close to her, desperately wishing that he would move or make one sound, anything to let her know that there was still a spark of life in the pale and seemingly spiritless body in her arms.

"If wishes were fishes..." she thought hopelessly, blotting the sweat, which had become commingled with her tears, from his pallid brow with her sleeve. No more blood oozed from his ear, and for that was she grateful.

She had made so many wishes on his behalf that evening. She had wished that his brothers and sister had not been killed by Grindelwald. She had wished Professor Dippet hadn't died, leaving Professor Krohn all alone. She had wished that so much could have been other than what it was. She had never once thought to wish for his safety. She had never even considered him to be in any danger. None at all. But Sophia had been wrong.

She cautiously touched his throat and felt a soft thud beneath his cold and clammy skin.

"I'm sorry, professor..." she whispered, closing her eyes and touching her forehead to his.

A quiet sound down the hall caused her to look up...

Martin and Sissy had halted in their pursuit somewhere near the bottom of the Owlery. He was panting and out of breath. Sissy was as well, but she was more adept at hiding that fact.

"We've lost it," she stated, looking up at the darkened ceiling of the corridor, checking to be sure.

Clouds and seemingly impenetrable darkness covered the outside world, and the halls of Hogwarts were dim and full of shadows.

"No, we ... must keep ... looking," Martin panted with a dogged expression on his face. His knuckles were white as he gripped his wand.

"Be sensible," said Sissy, thinking that he was behaving in a reckless manner befitting only a Gryffindor. She wanted to give him a good hard shake. "It's gone for now," she told him.

"But..."

"Sophia needs us. I can't imagine that Madam Pomfrey has reached her and Krohn yet," said Sissy with a very grim look.

"She was in a right state," said Martin, shaking his head and giving in to Sissy, though he very much wanted to climb the Owlery and see if the vampire had retreated there.

"Indeed. I can't be sure what it did to the ... to Professor Krohn, but I am quite certain that it was not remotely pleasant," she said with a forced calm, leading the way back. She had nearly referred to him as the 'old bear', but had thought better of it, wondering whether he would die or not.

She pitied Sophia, remembering how it had been for her when Professor Knowles had been brought in from the forest all those months ago ... the helplessness, the fear, the anger. Those were feelings that she would wish upon no one, least of all her friend.

"We did not finish our conversation," said the slightly hissing voice of the vampire as he loomed over Sophia and her professor.

She quickly drew her wand from her sleeve and attempted to shield Krohn with her body.

"_Exarmo_!" said the vampire, knocking the wand from her hand and catching it quite deftly.

He examined it for a moment before tossing it away without a second glance. Sophia heard it clatter on the stone, but did not see where in the shadows the instrument had landed. She was only comforted by the fact that he had not snapped it in two. She choked back a sob as he looked down at them again. She was certain that he was going to kill them both.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"Many things, young one, few of which you may give me," he answered with a repulsive expression on his face somewhat akin to a leer.

Sophia shuddered and continued to try and protect Krohn. She wasn't sure if the vampire knew who he was, but she certainly didn't want it to find out.

"I care not," the creature said to her with a passive expression. "My master wanted his line to end. I believe it shall. The marginal uncertainty in this matter is not enough to induce me to drink the blood of a traitor nor to expend the energy required to take his life in another fashion. Better that his end be slow."

The vampire was saying that it thought Krohn was as good as dead. And that fact didn't matter one whit to it. The professor's life or death meant nothing. Then Sophia felt a horrible chill as she realized that it had Legilimenced her without her knowledge. She hadn't felt a thing, but then, she had no defenses against Legilimency that she was aware of. She shuddered involuntarily.

"Why are you here?" she asked it, daring to look up and stare directly into its glowing red eyes. That was all the defiance, and bravado, she could manage.

"Why are any of us here?" it shrugged. "I am here to do a final service for one who was most dear to me. Does that answer suffice?"

She nodded mutely, knowing that it meant to kill Martin for Grindelwald, though the Dark Wizard was long dead. It need not elaborate on the subject for her to understand that.

"I go to seek my quarry now, but I cannot leave you free to hinder me or raise an alarm," it told her with a slight sniff. "Pity the others dispersed so swiftly," the vampire added almost boredly.

Raising its wand, the vampire cast a complex spell with a lengthy incantation of which she only recognized one word: _Incendio_.

There was a momentary flash and a dull roar in her ears as the spell was completed. She squeezed her eyes closed and clung to Professor Krohn as though for dear life.

Suddenly, she felt very warm and ventured to open one eye. Sophia found that they were surrounded by a cage of glowing red flames. Her mouth went dry. How long could they remain within its confines? She wasn't sure, but the heat was already growing rapidly, and she had nothing with which to douse the flames or to defend both Krohn and herself against them as it had taken her wand from her.

_Better that it be slow_, the vampire had said.

With a rather fiendish chuckle, the vampire was gone. And it had got something out of them after all: a moment's amusement.

Halfway up the stairs to the hospital wing, Corinna paused and grasped her head in her hands with a shrill cry of panic and frustration that caused Olivia to stop in her tracks and turn to look at her with wide eyes. Corinna looked up at her on the stairs and shook her head.

"Damn," she muttered.

"What? What?" asked Olivia, biting her lower lip.

"You go back! I'll have to get help. I think the vampire's going to try to hurt Sophia," she explained, shaking her head again and ambling up the steps toward the hospital wing, "if he hasn't already."

Olivia was tempted to follow, but she was more worried about Sophia now. In fact her heart was hammering in her chest as she thought about all the possibilities, all of the things that could happen to her best friend at the hands of the creature of darkness. She immediately began running back toward the corridor where they had left Sophia and Professor Krohn.

Due to the unpredictability of the castle's stairs, especially after hours ... and during the spring, Sissy and Martin found themselves struggling to return to the corridor at the base of the Aerie. After some effort they managed to make it to the old staff quarters, which was nearly as far from their intended destination as the Owlery had been, although in the opposite direction. They were both beginning to grow frustrated and extremely anxious.

"If only we could run into a professor or someone who could help us," growled Sissy as she followed Martin through the corridors.

"Anyone..." said Martin with a frustrated sigh, knowing quite well that the chances of finding anyone in the seldom used corridor was very unlikely. Most of the time that part of the castle was deserted, except when his uncle had been living there. Now it was completely empty, so far as Martin knew.

"Your father would be most helpful," she commented.

"Or mum," he shrugged.

"But we'll make it on our own;" said Sissy with a firm nod, pursing her lips together, "we're Ravenclaws, after all."

"That's right," Martin agreed, trying hard to find some pluck and not think about blood that had been coming from his potions' professor's ear. Or the fact that the vampire was still on the loose somewhere.

Sophia had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die. Her clothes were beginning to smolder from the heat and intensity of the flames. She tried to protect her unconscious professor from the extreme heat, but there was nothing that she could do for either of them. She was powerless without her wand.

"Some Ravenclaw I am ... I bet Sissy or Olivia would be out of here in a snap, wand or no," she said into Professor Krohn's ear, while at the same time willing him to remain unconscious. She thought it would be easier, less painful and frightening for him that way. If he didn't wake up, he would never even realize. Maybe he wouldn't even feel it when he burned to death.

"I wish to Merlin this wasn't happening," she said with a dry sniff. All of her tears were gone, dried up by the incredible heat. "I'm not ... not afraid," she said, and maybe that was the truth at that one moment, "but you, professor, if only you didn't have to die too ... then it wouldn't be quite so bad."

Then she heard something heartening, something that gave her strength and hope: the sound of running footsteps in the corridor. Her head snapped up from the place she had been resting it against her professor's shoulder.

"Olivia!" she cried with a momentary burst of elation. Help had indeed arrived! Olivia could have them out of there in a moment. Simplest thing in world! Just a quickly spoken charm...

"Sophia! Merlin's beard! What happened?" asked Olivia with wide eyes as she skidded to a halt and looked at the flaming cage that surrounded her friend and the unconscious potions master.

"It was the vampire. Just get us out of here! I don't have my wand," said Sophia desperately.

Olivia, of course, had hers in hand and nodded, trying to think of a good spell that would rescue both of the captives. The only thinking she could think of was the Flame Freezing Charm...

"Erm," she said as she began shaking. She had never quite mastered that one at the beginning of the school year. The finer points of the rather elementary charm, including the part about the flames freezing, had inexplicably eluded her somehow. After all, she never thought she would need the spell and... and this was just unfair!

Sophia immediately realized what was wrong.

"You can do it! Just cast the spell," she encouraged her friend in a pleading tone.

"But if I miss or muck it up..."

"It doesn't matter! We're going to _die_ if you don't do something! Anything! Do something, Olivia!"

Olivia took a deep breath as she realized that Sophia was right. She had nothing to lose by attempting to stop the flames and everything to gain. That thought made it just a little easier to collect herself, though she still had misgivings.

"I can do this," Olivia told herself, raising her wand and taking another deep breath. She could smell singed human hair, Sophia's hair, which was dangerously close to catching on fire. She tried not to gag as she prepared to speak the incantation.

Sophia winced in pain and clutched Krohn closer to keep him as far from the raging fire as possible.

"Please..." she begged Olivia, closing her eyes and willing all of it to end, for better or worse. Just for the heat and the intense pain it caused to stop.

That was the last prompting her friend needed. Olivia spoke the incantation as clearly as she possibly could and waved her wand.

The effect was immediate. The cage-shaped flames froze in place, turning to light blue ice as the spell had no fuel, such as wood, upon which to act. The fire was quenched, and the intolerable, almost deadly heat was ended.

Sophia opened her eyes and felt very much relieved.

"You did it," she said with a wide smile, savoring the coolness of the air around her as the heat swiftly dissipated.

"I can hardly believe it!" laughed Olivia as tears sprang to her eyes. Sophia was safe! She had managed to perform the spell correctly.

"Can you fetch my wand or cast Reducto on these bars?" asked Sophia hopefully.

"I'd better get your wand," said Olivia, looking around for it. "I wouldn't want any accidents." She was thinking mostly of what had happened to Mister Moody's leg and wanting to take no chances. There was no need to press her luck or tempt fate.

"The unmitigated arrogance..." said a septural voice from the shadows of the seldom used corridor that stopped Sissy and Martin their tracks. They knew that voice only too well.

"Show yourself!" demanded Sissy as they both scoured the hall for the source of the voice, for the vampire that had once been Christoph Somerville.

They saw nothing, though there was a side passage ahead of them where Sissy well imagined that the vampire might be lurking, watching them in the dim light, lingering in the deepest shadows.

"Oh, I think not," he answered with a dark, malevolent chuckle.

"Coward!" shouted Martin in a loud voice. His temper was beginning to rise. "You bloody coward! Come out here this instant!" he roared, turning red in the face as his voice reverberated through the corridor.

"Will you be so brave when I have my fangs in your throat, I wonder?" asked the vampire in a musing tone. "I do not think you will be, young Dumbledore" said Somerville, answering his own question.

"Let's see then!" said Sissy, trying to force him from hiding so that she could attempt to stun him or something. She didn't have a plan yet. She didn't think a Hurling Hex would catch him off-guard this time.

"Oh, I can afford to bide my time. The two of you aren't going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. No one will come for you here... Yes, I can be patient now. I can have my fun, take my time," said the voice from the shadows ahead of them.

"I don't think you will have very much fun with us," said Sissy in a cold and dangerous tone. She cast a quick stunning spell into the darkness, hoping to get a lucky hit. Nothing.

"Temper, temper," laughed the vampire.

"You want me, don't you? You came here for me, right? Why don't you come out and get me then?" asked Martin, striding forward several paces and holding his wand up in a defensive position.

There was a barely audible whisper from the darkness. The word spoken was unfamiliar to Martin, but Sissy's eyes widened in horror as she heard it:

"_Crucio_!"

The vampire had cast an Unforgivable Curse on Martin.

Martin let out a high, shrill cry of panic and agony as the curse took him by surprise, overwhelmed his senses, and sent him to the ground where he involuntarily curled into a fetal position and whimpered in pain. His wand fell from his trembling, unfeeling fingers. The only thing he could think of was the pain and wanting to make it stop. The sensation was like nothing he had ever known before. He felt as though he were being consumed by flames of pain that licked at every inch of his body, burning and tormenting him both inside and out.

"Stop! Stop it!" screamed Sissy in a half-panicked voice as she watched her young friend writhe on the floor in front of her. "You beast! Stop it!" she cried out, not knowing what to do or even if the curse could be counteracted.

"Oh, yes, quite a bit of entertainment to be had here," laughed a cruel voice in the darkness as the curse ended long moments later. He had held the curse for a long time, drawing upon the unnatural well of hatred available to certain members of the undead. Few mortal wizards could have held the curse for so long as that.

Martin lay shivering on the floor, insensible to everything that was happening around him, not quite unconscious, but certainly incapacitated.

"You bastard!" she shrieked, firing another stunner into the deepest part of the shadows.

"Still planning to knock me on my arse? You'll need stronger medicine than that," he scoffed with a derisive tone.

Sissy wasn't sure, but she thought she might have clipped him with the spell. She couldn't be certain about that, but she knew he was right and began wracking her brain for other spells that might prove more effective. If she could have seen him, a Hurling Hex might have proved useful, but that hex had a very nasty habit of rebounding if not aimed properly.

"You want a better shot at hitting me, little girl?" questioned the vampire in a mocking tone, moving from the shadows to the center of the corridor at last. "Take it," he hissed at her, baring his fangs at her.

Sissy moved forward quickly to place herself between Martin and undead creature that taunted her, keeping her defenses up all the while as she stood over her shivering friend. No one, not even vampires, gave free shots like that. He was still taunting her. If she had known a really good curse, she might have tried it, but most of those in her repertoire seemed too weak to use against a vampire in a pitched battle.

"Miss Howard!" yelled a familiar voice from down the corridor.

Her stomach flip-flopped as she saw Professor Knowles standing some few meters behind the creature, holding his wand aloft. She imagined that he had heard her voice, which had been quite loud only moments ago.

"Stay back! It's between us," she warned him quickly. "It used the Cruciatus Curse on Martin," she added nearly as swiftly. Her heart was hammering madly in her chest now. How could she protect them both? How could she protect any of them? She had no idea of what she was going to do.

Knowles paused and an expression of profound shock and horror passed over his features. He held his wand more defensively as the expression dissipated, leaving one of grim resolve in its stead.

"You have no place here, vampire. Get out while you still can," Knowles ordered the creature in a firm and commanding voice.

If he were afraid, he did not let it show. But Sissy knew, given that the vampire had robbed him of his sight and had tortured him with Legilimency and perhaps other means, that Knowles was surely afraid, but he was doing an admirable job of acting the part of the heroic Gryffindor. No, Knowles was and would always be simply heroic to her, everything else aside. She adjusted her grip on her wand.

"And _you_ shall order _me_ out?" chuckled the vampire, not even turning to look at him. There was no need to waste the effort.

It's blazing red eyes were locked upon shivering Martin and nowhere else. Sissy realized that it was nearly done biding its time and playing games with them. It was nearly ready for the kill.

"That's right," answered Knowles.

"You screamed like a pathetic child when I blinded you. I have no compunction about taking other things from you. Do you fancy losing a hand? An arm? Your legs perhaps?" The vampire was clearly mocking him, not to mention Alastor Moody. "Go now and leave them to me," he said with a wave of his hand, not deeming the blind professor even worthy of killing.

Leaving them to the vampire was something that Professor Knowles neither would nor could do to two of his students, much less Martin, whom he had sworn to protect, nor Sissy, who occupied a special place in his heart. He would have given his life to defend them, and as he stood there, he believed he would be doing just that not so many heartbeats into the future.

"Even my life," he said, lifting his wand from its defensive position and into a the antiquated salute that he had used all those nights ago when he had first chosen to pursue the vampire into the forest.

Then Knowles released his cane, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

"Aren't we the dramatic one," scoffed the vampire over his shoulder with a sneer on his ugly face that Sissy longed to wipe off.

She knew what Knowles meant with the gesture; he never expected to need the cane again. He expected to die there in the hallway for her and for Martin. But watching the salute and noting the angle of his wand, she had something else in mind, though she wasn't at all certain it would work.

"Don't move, professor," she said in an authoritative voice.

Knowles froze in his stance without question. Perhaps in this moment, more so than in any other, was his faith in young Miss Howard and her skills tested and found true. The vampire glared at her, trying to decipher her intentions, but the glare came too late.

"_Expelliarmus_!" she bellowed with all her might, reaching her empty hand toward Knowles, but keeping the vampire carefully between them.

The wand never reached her hand, but nearly one quarter of its total length, coated in dark blood, protruded from the left side of the vampire's chest. It had pierced his chest from the back, robes and all. Somerville looked down and let his own wand slip from his pale fingers. He laughed out loud and touched the bloodied tip of the wand with an expression of disbelief and wonder. He laughed again though more softly, taking a stumbling step backward. Then he lifted his head and looked at Sissy once more. The glow had faded from his red eyes, and they slowly resumed their mortal hue as did his lips and his skin, though he remained pale. He trembled slightly, and his faced contorted for an instant in pain.

"Well done..." said Somerville as he crumpled to the floor, dissolving into a fine, powdery ash as he did so. The wand that had pierced his heart fell with a soft plop into the ashes.

"Miss Howard?" asked Knowles in a choked, quavering voice.

"We did it. The vampire's ... gone," she informed him, shaking with relief and kneeling with Martin. "Now we've only to pick up the pieces," she added very quietly as she brushed her friend's auburn curls away from his forehead. He merely whimpered in response.

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A/N: I'm having a lot of problems with this site's upload system. My apologies!

hsibelius: I can't figure out how to repair any of the weird things the site is doing. Luckily, there are only four chapters, not including this one, left. Thank you very much for reviewing!


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